Both Sides of the Fence
by GoingVintage
Summary: He's a farmer.  She's a popstar.  An unlikely meeting and now they're a couple.  Can they combine their worlds successfully?  There's tractors, farm animals, cookouts, and hay.  It's farmer!Puck, ya'll!  Yeehaw!  AU Puck/Rachel.  8/27/10 - COMPLETE.
1. Part 1

**Author's note**: Ladies, please meet farmer!Puck and popstar!Rachel. For my LiveJournal fictable prompt #34 - Rainstorm.

* * *

"_Are you sure you want to re-route?"_

Rachel Berry glares at the GPS system built into the dash of her expensive, _brand new_, foreign automobile. "Of course I do!" she spits out, as if the robotic voice can hear her. "The stupid bridge is washed out!" Pressing buttons angrily, she waits, casting frustrated glances at the water rushing over what's left of the bridge.

"_Calculating route,"_ the pleasant female voice tells her after a few seconds of silence.

Rachel taps her manicured nails on the steering wheel, her eyes squinting to see through the blinding rain that pelts her Audi from all angles.

"_Make a legal U-turn. And then t__urn left in 500 feet," _the woman's voice instructs, her annunciation haughty.

Rachel pulls back off the shoulder and does as she is told. Her car bounces along the pavement of the new road and she looks around, trying to get her bearings through the driving downpour. Her entire tripe from her father's home in Lima, Ohio to this spot somewhere outside of Nashville has been in some of the heaviest rainstorms she's seen in years. And the closer she makes it to her destination, the worse it's been getting. So now, she finds herself in her present situation: lost in the middle of farmland with bridges and roads washed out everywhere.

Rachel's Audi hums along the narrow road for a few minutes and her confidence returns. She's definitely going to find her way out of this godforsaken countryside and back towards the shining lights of the city of Nashville (civilization). But then she feels a jolt as the pavement ends and she finds herself on a stretch of muddy, barely-rocky road. The farther she gets from the paved road, the worse the road gets. Ten minutes later, she's completely hung up in the mud.

Being the internationally known pop star that she is (and used to having "people" who do everything for her), Rachel has little patience for this ridiculousness. Ignoring the rain and forgetting the fact that her entire outfit is "dry clean only" and will probably melt or disintegrate upon contact with water, she storms from her plush vehicle and into the blinding rain. She's a smart, resourceful 24-year-old. She's been famous since she was 17 and has more money in the bank than a majority of small countries. She can surely figure out how to get her car out of the mud, right?

…

Noah Puckerman is sitting on the front porch of his small farmhouse, guitar in his lap, as he watches the rain come down. Instead of thinking about the amount of money these fucking storms are costing him in damaged, unsellable crops, he's decided to just sit here in his oldest pair of jeans and watch it rain.

He sees the sleek, black car fishtailing its way up his road and immediately knows that some goddamn city person is lost again. Motherfuckers are always getting lost out here and ending up at his fucking farm. When the car gets completely caught up in the mud, he sighs because he knows who's going to have to fix that shit. _Him_. But instead of getting up immediately (because it's fucking raining), he sits there a little longer, strums his guitar a little more, and waits.

He's in the middle of some classic 80s rock riffs when he sees a trim, petite woman with dark hair pop from the inside of the car. Her clothes are expensive. It's obvious, even from his distance of a few hundred feet away, that she's not getting out of this mess on her own.

Groaning about never getting any fucking peace even on his own farm, he drops his guitar down on the rocking chair next to the one he has his ass in and stands up. He pushes his wide-brimmed hat down over his dark hair, climbs down off the porch, and heads toward the barn. His old cowboy boots make sucking sounds against the mud that's trying to swallow him as he finally enters the barn. Two minutes later, he's aboard his new baby (a 5E Limited Series John Deere that he just bought last week and that he loves more than his pick-up truck) to pull this little rich bitch out of the ditch. He can't help but think, even as he meanders down the drive, that he's living in a real-life goddamned country song.

Rachel looks up from eying her mud-covered car and pushes the rain-soaked fringe away from her face as she sees the large, behemoth looking green farm vehicle meander toward her like the road isn't practically a swamp. It comes to a stop right in front of her car and the door to the thing swings open. Seconds pass and then a man – a man who looked like he was made of all muscle and bronzed skin – pops up out of the monstrosity, staring down the brim of his cowboy hat at her.

"Stuck?" he asks simply.

"What's it look like?" she barks. "My stupid tires are ground into the mud and I'm lost and I need to get to Nashville. And seriously, where the hell am I anyway?"

Puck waits for the woman to stop ranting (although he enjoys watching her breasts bounce in that pathetic excuse for a shirt that's now rain-soaked) and then says, "Get in your car. I'll hook ya up and pull ya out of the mud. No sense in going further so once I dig this shitty car out, just follow me down my driveway."

Rachel glowers at the man because, despite the fact that he's exceptionally handsome and clearly has some incredible green and gold flecks in his hazel eyes, he could easily be a rapist. Or an ax murder. Or even a cannibal. The thing is, you just _never know _with these country people.

Puck sees the hesitation in the brown eyes set below the obviously-sculpted eyebrows and arches his own brow. "I'm not an ax murder. Or a killer."

Rachel jumps and stares at him. Did she say that out load?

"But I have been known to cannibalize, in a sense," he says with a tip of his hat toward her, rain running off the brim. Then he hops down and hooks a chain to her car. Rachel's staring at him in the downpour, trying to figure out what exactly he meant by that. A cannibal? In a sense?

It's only once she's back inside her car and is gripping the steering wheel tightly as the car fishtails itself out of the mud that she realizes what he meant. And then her face turns twelve shades of crimson and she has to remind herself that country people are also classless and not above rutting like animals. She positively cannot wait to get back to the city.

…

Rachel's more than just a little bit uncomfortable when she follows the man inside his house. Her car is parked next to his big, red truck and the huge green tractor, which he called "his baby" before he put it away, is now safely back inside one of the four barns that are peppered along the side and back of the house. She's not sure what she expects inside the house of a man who appears to be in his mid-20s and lives alone and she's even less prepared for what she finds.

The man, who told her his name was "Puck", tells her to make herself at home while he changes out of his wet clothes. She watches him kick his boots off and then toss his wet Stetson by the door before heading back towards the back of the house. His jeans are soaked and clinging to his thighs (which are exceptionally muscular) and his t-shirt is completely stuck to his chest and back (both also spectacular, in her estimation.)

While he's changing, she looks around and is impressed with what she sees. The living room is painted a butter cream color and there is fluffy, plush furniture placed across the polished wood floors. The kitchen is a light, grassy green color with deep green accents. The house definitely doesn't look like a man decorated it so she begins to wonder if he has a wife.

"This used to be my grandparents' place," Puck says as he walks back into the main room, tossing a towel around his neck. Rachel spins and looks at him, wondering if she accidentally spoke out loud again.

"It's nice," she offers.

Puck grins at her and gives her a look that tells her of his disbelief of her sentiment. She feels the need to defend herself. "No, really, it is!" Her eyes dart around what she can see of the house, taking in the surroundings. "It's not exactly what I would choose for a residence, of course, but it seems warm and comfortable."

"Yeah, uh huh," Puck says. His eyes travel over her wet shirt and soaked skirt and she's suddenly very self-conscious and crosses her arms to shield against his gaze.

"You got a change of clothes?" Puck asks her.

Rachel shakes her head. "My suitcase is in the trunk of the car. I just need to run out and get it."

She opens the door but suddenly Puck's arm is on hers. "It's pouring out there and you're going to get sick. I got clothes you can wear. Just hang tight."

He disappears again and comes back minutes later with a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. "These are from when I was skinnier so hopefully they'll fit you okay."

She thanks him primly and he says, "Bathroom is the first door on the right."

Rachel nods and disappears inside the room, which is as comfortable and homey as the rest of his house and is decorated in soft hues of blue. She carefully removes her clothing and folds it neatly into a small pile before pulling his t-shirt over her head. It's still rather large on her but it's warm and dry and she immediately feels better. She slides the shorts on and cinches the waist as tight as possible but the garment still hang off her hips slightly. She looks at her appearance in the mirror and realizes that her makeup is making a slow retreat down her face. Her face becomes red again that she allowed this man whom, despite his completely uncultured demeanor, seems kind and caring enough to drag her from the mud and save her from drowning, to see her in such a state. She quietly pulls open the closet in the room and snags a fluffy blue washcloth and turns on the tap, quickly scrubbing her face clean.

After draping the cloth over the edge of the tub to dry, she runs her fingers through her long mane of hair and sighs at her reflection. It will have to do.

Puck's reclining on the couch, talking on his phone, when she comes out of the bathroom. He motions for her to come into the room and sit down and she does, listening to him on the phone.

"I'm so sorry, Santana, baby… I wanted to see you tonight, too. But all the bridges are out and you know it's too fuckin' dangerous to come out here. So let's just take a rain check and I'll hit that sweet little ass up tomorrow, k?"

Rachel rolls her eyes at him and instead, turns her gaze toward the fireplace. Despite the fact that it's late April, she's nearly chilled to the bone due to being soaked and she's appreciative that he has a fire going.

When Puck hangs up the phone, he asks, "You feel better?"

Rachel smiles and nods. "Thank you for being so hospitable. You definitely don't have to go to all the trouble you've gone to."

Puck stands up and shakes his head. "Shit. My mama didn't raise me to leave a stranded woman out in the rain. I have plenty of room and you're not going to get anywhere in this weather."

Tucking a strand of hair behind her head, she smiles shyly. "Again, I appreciate it."

Puck looks at her for a moment and appreciates the fact that her face has been scrubbed clean of all that god-awful make-up. It made her look old and haggard. Now, her skin is clean and her cheeks are slightly red and she just looks… well, she looks pretty fuckin' beautiful, actually.

"My name is Rachel, by the way," she offers.

Puck acknowledges her statement with a barely perceptible nod of his head. He stands up and asks, "You hungry?" Then he turns and heads toward the kitchen.

Rachel stands up and follows him. "I'm starved but…" She bites her lip and Puck stops and turns around.

"But what?"

"I have a strange diet," she says quietly.

"Lemme guess. You only eat plants, right?"

Rachel crosses her arms. "I also eat vegetables."

Puck smirks and pulls open the fridge. "Vegetables are still plants. I got a head of lettuce in here," he says as he reaches in, pulling the iceberg from the crisper and hands it to her. "You can gnaw on that if you're hungry."

Rachel groans at him and he laughs, tossing the lettuce back inside the fridge and kicking the door closed with his foot. He glances around the kitchen and says, "You maybe want a baked potato or something? I don't have any vegan butter or sour cream or shit but…"

"I think, under the circumstances," Rachel begins, "that I can put a few dairy items into my body without suffering anything too detrimental. A baked potato would be lovely."

Puck bends down and pulls a few potatoes from the bin and proceeds to stab them with a fork a few times before popping them in the microwave. While the machine is buzzing away, Puck leans against the countertop and asks, "So you were headed to Nashville?"

"Yes, I had an appointment." Rachel doesn't want to divulge too much about herself.

"Meeting with your manager or your record label?"

Rachel's eyes shoot up and she looks at him. "How'd you know I was a singer?"

Puck snorts and says, "Hold on." She watches him walk out of the room and when he comes back, he has a CD jewel case in his hand. He tosses it down in front of her and she's staring down at her own face staring back up at her.

"You know who I am?" She was positive that he wouldn't recognize her. Sure, she's well known, but she doesn't expect _this _man to know who she is.

Puck snorts. "My ex-girlfriend, Quinn, loved your music. Even saw you in concert last September."

Her eyebrow ticks up and she smiles. "_You _came to my concert?"

Puck snags the CD away from her again and tosses it on the counter away from her. "Baby, there's a lot I'll do for pussy. Well, when it's good anyway. I wouldn't sit through that pop music shit for just anything." He looks up at her. "No offense or anything. You sure can sing."

Rachel's mouth drops open and she's about to start lecturing him on locating some manners when the phone rings. He snags it off the counter and props it up on his ear. "Hey, Tina… I know, baby, I'd like to see you tonight, too. The roads are just too fucking bad. Maybe Saturday? Okay. Cool. See ya."

He clicks the phone off and sits it back down. He can feel her brown, super-judgey eyes glaring at him. Exasperation in his voice, he says, "what?"

Rachel just shakes her head and laughs. "I can see you're a ladies man."

"If that's what you want to call it. I prefer to see it that I just have lots of female friends who like my company. I am easy on the eyes," Puck corrects her. The microwave chooses that moment to ding and so Puck's suddenly in action mode and doesn't see Rachel rolling her eyes at him. He pulls the potatoes out and puts them on plates, swearing when the pads of his fingers are burned by the hot vegetables. Then he pulls open the fridge and yanks out butter, sour cream, cheese, and bacon bits and tosses it all down in front of Rachel. After snagging some bottled water for her and a beer for himself, he slaps some forks and knives down on the countertop, says "dig in" and proceeds to do exactly that.

Rachel carefully cuts open the jacket of her potato and then adds a tiny, almost miniscule dollop of butter on her potato before gently salting and peppering it. She mixes it all up and then dips her fork into it, pulling some of the starchy goodness out and sliding it into her mouth. She's so hungry. It was a long drive and she really just wants to eat and rest. It's starting to get dark outside and there's no sign of the rain letting up.

Puck blows through his potatoes and watches as Rachel gingerly finishes hers. He tries to ignore the way her mouth looks when she's eating because his mind just immediately goes to his favorite place and with this chick, it's probably not a good idea.

When she's done, she pushes her plate back and smiles. "Thank you so much. I needed that." Glancing around the room, she asks, "Do you mind if I take a shower? I hate to be a bother but I just feel so…"

"Gross? Yeah, go ahead. Maybe I'll take one after you." Puck ticks his head at her and she knows that means she should follow him out. He leads her back to the bathroom and hands her some fluffy towels from the cabinet. "Don't have any girly smelling shampoo or anything. Hope you don't mind Irish Spring."

"No, whatever you have will be fine. I just need to feel free of the mud and the grit."

Puck watches her place the towels on the closed toilet lid and lets his eyes skim over her legs. Despite the fact that she barely comes up to his chest, she's got incredibly long legs. They're toned and tan and are definitely nicer than most of what he's used to being wrapped around his waist – and he doesn't fuck with ugly babes, either. But this one? She comes from class and money and she takes care of her body and it shows with every fucking inch of skin he sees.

Before he says something that will get him punched, Puck closes the door and lets her shower. When he hears the water kick on, he tries to block out the fact that she's standing under his shower spray as naked as the day she was born. He knows the rest of her is fucking perfect, too, and he tries not to think about it because he refuses to get a hard-on with a stranger who happens to be a famous pop star in his house.

Halfway through Rachel's shower, Puck is on the couch watching the latest weather reports. There are still hours and hours of rain still heading their way and all the local officials are shitting solid gold bricks about all the flooding. Puck's just glad that his house is on high ground and that he doesn't have to worry. Sure, his crops are probably all gonna be destroyed and he won't know what the fuck to do for money later but he'll worry about that then. Can't do shit about it now.

He's flipping over to another station when suddenly the television, and everything else, goes off. "Goddammit," he swears, standing up quickly. The lights are fucking out, meaning that somebody probably took out a fucking power line. Great. That's _all_ he needs.

The bathroom door opens quickly and Rachel emerges, a towel around her hair, another cinched around her body tightly, and the loose clothing he gave her tucked to her chest. In what's left of the daylight, he can see droplets of water clinging to her shoulders and his tongue nearly jumps from his mouth of its own accord. What he wouldn't give to lick that right off her neck and keep right on going down towards the promised land.

"What happened?" She's chewing her lip, obviously nervous.

"Power's out," he says simply. "And I better take a shower before the water in the cistern runs out. Fucking wells…" he mutters.

"Will there be enough hot water for you?" She feels guilty because she was able to shower and now feels so much better.

"Sure, should be fine." Without a care, Puck pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the couch. Rachel finds herself staring because his chest is smooth, the muscles deeply defined. Other than a small trail of hair leading from his bellybutton down to the waistband of his jeans, he's not overly hairly. Rachel can't help but notice how completely hot it's suddenly gotten in his house.

Puck notices her eyes widen and smirks. He knows what he looks like. There's a reason women are all over him. And even though he doesn't need any validation (because he's fucking hot), it's nice to know that a woman who can have anyone on the planet appreciates what his simple, uncomplicated self has to offer.

Intentionally brushing his bare arm against hers, Puck walks past her and stops at the bathroom door. "Dammit," he says.

"What?" Rachel asks.

Puck grins. "Shoulda offered to join you earlier. It would have saved on water."

Rachel frowns at him and Puck chuckles. "See ya in a few, Princess."

He disappears behind the closed door and Rachel lets out a breath. He has absolutely no manners. She can't recall a time when she has ever been exposed to such an uncouth individual.

She hears the water turn on and once she knows he's safely under the spray, she drops her towel and immediately throws the clothes he'd given her earlier back over her body. She unwinds the towel from her hair and rakes her fingers through it, working the tangles out. By the time the water turns off, she's sitting in front of the fire, listening to the quiet.

And she can't believe how quiet it is. Other than the rain and the sound of her handsome host moving around in the bathroom (and she refuses to think about the fact that he's probably naked), she doesn't hear a single thing. She grew up on a busy street in a small town and since then, she's lived in New York City and Nashville. She's always surrounded by noises. Honking, sirens, people yelling at each other in various languages, babies crying, blaring music, dogs barking – she's used to it all. But out here… absolute silence. It unnerves her to no end and so she's relieved when the bathroom door opens and Puck steps back out into the hallway whistling. There's a towel slung low around his waist and water is still running in rivulets down his chest. Her eyes are instantly drawn to his pectoral muscles and she hates that she feels herself throb, deep inside. She knows that her body's reaction to him is completely normal but she doesn't like the fact that she seems so very _aware _of him.

Without a word, he disappears into the bedroom. When he comes back, he's dressed again and rubbing a towel over his wet hair.

"Well…what do you wanna do?" he asks. "No electricity means we can sit here and talk or…" His voice fades off and Rachel finds herself blushing. She can only imagine what else he would say, given what he's said so far.

"I could use some rest, honestly," she tells him.

Puck slaps his hands with his thighs, rubbing the wetness from them, and says, "Sure, you can take a nap in the guest room if you want."

Rachel follows him down the hall and he pushes open the door to a room across from the bathroom. It's decorated in cream colors and the bed is huge and inviting.

"Thank you," Rachel says. She realizes she's been thanking him way too much. "I'll pay you for your hospitality."

"Puck laughs. "The fuck you will. It's not a problem. Get some rest, okay?"

Rachel nods and Puck leaves her alone. She carefully pulls down the blankets and crawls under them. The sheets smell crisp and cool and, despite the fact that she's in a strange place, she is soon asleep.

When she wakes up a few hours later, it's dark outside. She can hear the rain bouncing off the windows and can see the lightning flashing through the thin curtains. Pushing herself out of the bed, she wanders down the dark hall and sees that the fire is still burning and that there are now candles scattered all over the room, giving off a small amount of light. She hears a snore and looks down to see Puck asleep on the couch, one hand tossed over his forehead.

Rachel cocks her head to the side as she studies him. He looks almost sweet when he's asleep, she thinks. She lets her eyes travel over his jaw and cheekbones as the candlelight dances over his face. Her eyes settle on the perfect nose that centers his face and she realizes that she's rarely, if ever, seen a man who is so close to physical perfection. She wonders how he ended up being a dirt farmer when he could easily be in New York City or Los Angeles, modeling for a living.

As if he can feel her eyes on her, Puck's eyes slowly open and meet Rachel's. "Like what you see?" he rasps, his voice thick from sleep.

Rachel blushes and is glad that it's not visible thanks to the poor lighting. Instead of answering, she stalks over to the loveseat and sits down, her arms crossed.

Puck sits up and stretches, his shirt rising up to bare his stomach to her again. She's already seen far too much of this man's skin and she wonders if he's showing off on purpose.

"So tell me about you," Rachel orders. "I don't know anything about you and you, obviously, know some things about me."

Puck snickers. "I haven't read your spread in _Teen Beat _magazine or anything but yeah, I do know a few things about you. Rich. Talented. Spoiled. Hot. Gets everything she wants. I know your type. Fuck, I've _fucked _your type more than once."

"Must you always be so crude?" Rachel demands. He shows absolutely no care for the words that come from his mouth and she finds herself shocked, over and over again, about what he chooses to say.

"Oh, lighten up, Princess," Puck answers. "You're an adult, right? You can handle a little bad language." Crossing his arm, he adds, "_shit_", for extra emphasis.

Rachel glowers at him and says, "So…the Cliffs Notes of your biography?"

Puck leans back on the couch and props his bare feet up on the coffee table. "Noah Puckerman…25 years old. Inherited this farm from my grandparents' two years ago. Also work as a mechanic a few days a week. I sing and play guitar, have a bitchy mother and a crazy, teenaged sister…" He shifts his eyes towards her. "I think that's about it."

"You seem to have a lot of girlfriends, too," Rachel adds and then rolls her eyes when Puck grins proudly.

"What can I say? Babes love the Puckerone."

Rachel lets out a genuine laugh at the ridiculous nickname he's given himself. He smiles at her and she notices how it transforms his whole face and makes him even more attractive than he was before (if that was possible.) Her breath quickens slightly and she admonishes herself for being so attracted to someone like him. She's used to men like her last boyfriend, Jesse. They're all smooth with dancers' muscles, perfect teeth, and are cultured and educated. And they certainly don't swear or use derogatory terms to discuss the female sexual anatomy.

A loud clap of thunder shakes the house and makes Rachel jump. It's followed quickly by a lightning strike that seems exceptionally close and it forces Puck off the couch and over to the window. He pulls open the curtains and stares at the windows, his eyes searching the darkness.

"Be right back," he says quickly. "I need to go check on the horses."

Rachel watches him head toward the door and she panics. "You can't leave me alone in here! There's no lights and it's dark and…" She lets her voice fade when she realizes that she's being ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen to her.

"You're scared?" Puck shoves his fingers through his hair. "_Jesus,_" he swears. Looking at her, he says, "Well c'mon, but you're gonna get wet again."

Rachel doesn't say anything and before she can ask, Puck hands her a pair of boots that are much too large for her. She slips into them and gives him a thankful smile because her mud-covered heels would do her very little good in that.

Once his shoes are on, he grabs a huge flashlight off the shelf by the door and says, "Let's go," before jerking open the door. He darts out onto the porch and Rachel follows quickly behind, tugging the door to the house closed behind her.

He jumps down off the side of the porch and turns quickly, his hands bracketing her waist, as he lifts and turns her, setting her down on the ground next to him. Her shirt has ridden up and his thumb brushes across the bare skin of her torso. Their eyes meet and despite the fact that they're standing in the pouring rain with lightning dancing around them, Rachel thinks he's going to kiss her. Or maybe she's going to kiss him. Her eyes settle on the pink plumpness of his lips and her tongue darts out, licking her own lips in response. She thinks she feels him shudder slightly but then he looks up and away from her.

His thumb makes two more wide circles against her flesh and then he pulls away abruptly, breaking the spell, and stomps through the muddy grass toward the barn at the very back of the big graveled lot. When he pushes open the wide doors, Rachel can hear horses whinnying inside.

"Hey, girls," Puck says softly, walking from stall to stall. He brushes his hand, palm open, up the face of each horse and speaks softly to them. "You're okay, girls. It's just a storm."

One horse, a chestnut colored one with white spots dotting her coat, knickers loudly and Puck laughs. "Now, now, Bessie… I know there's a girl here but you don't have to be jealous. She's not gonna steal me from you."

Turning toward Rachel, who is standing a few feet away, Puck laughs. "Bessie gets jealous of other women. She apparently thinks she owns me. She actually grabbed Santana's hair once."

Rachel finds herself staring at the big eyes of the horse, illuminated by Puck's flashlight. She's never been so close to a farm animal before and she's surprised that she's not exactly uncomfortable by the large animal. Puck seems exceptionally comfortable with them, almost as if they're friends.

"How many horses are in here?" Rachel's eyes survey the expanse but in the dark, the space and its occupants are impossible to discern.

"Six. They're usually out in the pasture but the weather was just too bad so I made them all come in yesterday. Despite the fact that they are terrified, they hate being cooped up in here." Puck brushes his hand over the coat of another horse and then turns toward Rachel. "They're all fine. That lightning strike was really close and I wanted to make sure my girls were all okay."

Rachel smiles at the fact that he calls them his "girls" and can't help but think that this man is a bit of an enigma. He's all angular and hard and full of muscles and foul language but she thinks that there may be compassion and tenderness simmering under the surface of him.

Puck walks over to the wall and hits the hand sanitizer dispenser, coating his hands to clean himself off.

"I'm gonna stay out here with them for a few minutes," he says, "just to make sure they're okay. You can have a seat."

Rachel looks around for a chair and Puck points towards a stack of hay bales near the open door to the barn. She walks over and sits down, tucking the shorts under her thighs so that her thighs aren't too irritated by the scratchiness of the hay.

Puck drops down next to her and his eyes travel over her wet hair and down to the t-shirt now plastered to her body. Then he smiles. "You're fucking soaked all over again."

Rachel shakes her head. "I know. There's no point in trying to stay dry. We'll be drenched going back inside the house, too. Might as well get used to staying this way for the time being." Her voice is resigned but doesn't show any hint of irritation and for that, Puck is thankful.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the heavy rain ping off the tin roof. The lightning flashes steadily and illuminates them in the dark barn. Rachel expects to feel nervous out here in this big, dark building but for some reason, she doesn't. She's sure it's because of the man sitting next to her. She can smell him now…he smells like rainwater and Irish Spring and leather. She's used to smelling Armani cologne. This scent, this natural, all-male scent, is almost foreign to her senses and she finds that it excites her. Actually, everything about this crude man excites her. From the way he looks at her like he obviously appreciates what he sees to the fact that he nearly kissed her in the rain, everything about him seems to make her insides throb. She can't remember when she ever felt like this about a man and she hopes she can escape from his home in the morning without embarrassing herself.

The horses continue to shift restlessly and Puck whispers words of comfort out into the darkness of the barn. Rachel finds herself getting sleepy again and leans against Puck without realizing it until his arm goes around her shoulder and he tucks her against him. She tenses for a moment and then relaxes again when she notices that he's merely trying to help her get comfortable.

"We'll go inside in a few minutes," he whispers into her hair. "The girls are almost calmed down. Once they're totally quiet, we'll be fine to go back inside."

Rachel nods against his shoulder and lets her eyes drift closed. Puck shifts slightly and she feels him yawn against her head. She feels bad for him because he's probably exhausted from entertaining her all evening. She tells herself that as soon as they get back inside, she'll climb back into the guest bedroom and stay there until morning so that the poor man can get some sleep.

The storm seems to drift away but the rain continues steadily. When a horse whinnies loudly, Rachel jerks upright and realizes that she's been asleep.

"Puck," she says. He doesn't answer and she looks over and notices that he's asleep, too. She shakes him and he opens his eyes and grins at her. She opens her mouth to say something but her words are caught in his mouth because he presses his lips against hers instead.

Rachel gasps into his mouth, tells herself to pull away, but then leans into his body and kisses him back, winding her arms around his neck. His lips are as plump to kiss as they were to look at and they're surprisingly soft. When his tongue flits along her lips, slowly prodding for entrance, she grants it and then sighs into his mouth as their tongues make contact. She hasn't kissed like this in…well, she can't remember the last time she kissed like this. Being who she is doesn't afford her a lot of chances for true privacy and so her experiences, while meaningful, have been relatively limited. But this man…

Rachel shudders, partly from the cold but mostly from the desire swirling low in her belly, and Puck's arms slide around her. He lifts her effortlessly until she's straddling his lap on the hay bale. She breaks the kiss and peers at him.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyes full of concern and none of the cockiness she'd seen earlier.

"Absolutely," Rachel answers. She lets her eyes travel down his face, stopping on his neck. Then she leans forward and presses her lips against the side of his jaw and he groans into her hair. His heart is pounding because this woman is nearly a total stranger but she's so goddamn hot that he's not sure he's going to let her out of his arms anytime soon. Instead, he pulls her tighter against him and takes her lips again before sliding his lips along her cheeks and down her chin. Rachel shivers and whispers, "that feels so incredible" and he thinks he's hit the jackpot because she's going to be a fucking talker, he can tell.

Puck loosens his grip on her and with a quick flick of his wrists, pulls her (his) shirt over her head and drops it next to them on the hay. Rachel doesn't shy away from his gaze but instead, lets him look his fill before her hand slides up, cups the crown of his head, and pulls it down against her breasts. She's so fucking bold about what she wants that he groans appreciatively before his lips surround a pebbled nipple and he lets out a loud slurp as his tongue works her peak.

"God, yes," Rachel breathes out against his scalp. She's grinding into his lap and he can feel how insanely hot she is between their layers of clothing. He lets his other hand travel up and rub against the opposite nipple until it's equally as hard and ready for his mouth. He meets her eyes in the flashing light as his lips surround that nipple and smiles around her breast when she tosses her head back and presses herself against him.

When he pulls away to catch a breath, Rachel slides off of him. He's afraid she's going to grab the shirt and take off for the house but instead, she pushes the shorts to the ground and stands in front of him in nothing but a pair of small, white panties.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done, Puck. I don't know you or anything about out. But I want you… and we'll probably regret this in the morning but I need you. I mean, I really _need _this. I never, ever do anything spontaneous and maybe it's the rain or the storms or the fact that I'm in the middle of nowhere, but I feel like a normal person with you and—"

Puck stands up and presses his lips to Rachel's moving mouth to shut her up. She pulls back and he grins at her, his hands sliding across the bare skin of her back. "You don't have to make a speech, Rachel. You wanna do this, we'll do this. Fuck knows I wanna do this… So don't rationalize or make excuses…just shut up, okay?"

Puck steps toward her, twisting his hands into her hair as he presses his lips against hers almost frantically. While their lips are locked, he hooks his fingers over her panties and pushed them down her hips until they catch mid-thigh, his hand quickly sliding between her legs. When his index finger comes into contact with her clit, Rachel tears her lips from his to gasp. Her head falls back as he rubs his finger over it, his lips biting along her collarbone, leaving the skin red.

"Oh, God…Puck," she groans. Puck pressed against her, never moving his fingers from her clit, and backs her toward the hay bale. When her legs hit it and she collapses onto it, he quickly pulls her panties down the rest of the way and tosses them over his shoulder before grabbing her thighs and pulling her ass to the edge of the bale. With his eyes locked on hers, he pushes her legs apart and then looks down between her thighs.

"Goddamn," he rasps, his eyes raking over her glistening opening. "Fuck," he adds right before he dips his head and ghosts his tongue along her outer lips. Rachel arches her back, pressing her pussy into his face, and cries out so loudly that the horses whinny in response. His tongue darts into her and then back out, sliding up to suck her clit into his mouth. While she bows and moans, her fingers find his head and press him hard into her body. She'd never felt anything so amazing in her life. It's like her mind has shut down and everything in the entire world revolves around what his tongue and lips are doing between her thighs.

"Rachel," Puck's voice wafts up from between her thighs. "Open your eyes and watch, baby."

Rachel shudders, his words assailing her in nearly the same way his tongue is. She forces her eyes open and looks at him through heavy lids. When their eyes lock in the flash of the lightning, he lowers his head again and curls his tongue around her clit, his eyes never leaving hers.

Rachel bucks off the bale, her fingers finding her nipple. She tugs on it roughly, arching her pubic bone toward Puck for deeper contact. She needs him deeper. She needs more.

His gaze drops down so he can spread her open with his thumbs and then he's sinking his tongue fully inside her, twisting and swirling it along the entrance to her pussy before pulling it back out and licking a long line up her thigh.

Her body begins to quake as the sizzle that was building low in her belly seems to be climbing towards release. Puck pulls his head away, biting her thigh none too gently and then he's sliding three fingers inside her. The fullness she experiences makes her keen his name twice before she completely comes apart, leaning toward him with her hands in his hair as the orgasm tears through every part of her body. Puck's tongue darts gently over her clit until Rachel huffs loudly and falls back against the bales stacked up behind her.

"Intense," she musters, her eyes still closed and her thighs trembling.

"I'm not done yet," his voice cuts through the rain and distant thunder and she opens her eyes to look at him. "I don't think we need to continue in this barn, though," he adds. "I mean, I wouldn't mind fuckin' you right over this bale but I'm pretty sure you're a classy girl and might not like that."

Rachel laughs and then nods softly and takes the hand he's offering. He pulls her up and grabs her discarded shirt, carefully sliding it back over her body. He hands her the shorts and shoves her panties in his pocket. "You can have these back later," he promises. She arches a brow at him and he just smiles and helps her slip into her boots. Her legs are still weak from what she's just experienced so she leans on him slightly as they dart back through the rain and the mud and the lightning flashes toward his house.

He ushers her inside quickly, locks the door, and then she's back in his arms, pressed against the wall. He undresses her as fast as he can before pulling his own clothes off and then guides her toward his bedroom, slamming the door loudly at the exact same moment that thunder rumbles loudly outside.

…

In the morning, Rachel's eyes shoot open and she sits up, clutching the blankets to her body. She glances down at the man sleeping next to her and the entire night comes rushing back. Oral sex in the barn. Sex in the bedroom. Sex in the shower. Sex in front of the fireplace. Sex in the bed again…and again.

She slides out of the bed to go to the bedroom and moans at the pain shooting through her thigh muscles.

Puck stirs at the noise and opens one eye to smile at her. Rachel glances away, embarrassed at his tired but probing gaze.

"Don't get shy on me now," Puck laughs.

Rachel smiles and says, "I'm sorry. I'm just not quite used to 'the morning after,' honestly." She glances around and then asks, "Is this where you hand me my clothes and send me packing?"

Puck rolls his eyes at her and climbs out of the bed. He walks across the room, totally naked, and slides in behind her to press himself against her. She can feel that he's already hard again and any resistance she thought she was going to have this morning flies right through the window and out into the rain that's still coming down in steady sheets.

"Normally, yeah, that's what I would do," he says against her ear, his hands making big, hot circles across her abdomen. "But since it's still pouring, the bridges are out, and you're stuck here, why don't you take that pretty ass into the bathroom, do what you were gonna do, and join me in bed again? Besides, I kinda like you."

He drops a kiss against her neck and Rachel melts against him. "Yes, okay," she agrees. He lets her slip from his grasp and then disappears through the door while he climbs back in the bed.

Once she's in the bathroom, she looks in the mirror. Even without electricity, she can see that she's an absolute mess. Her hair is in tangled knots, her lips are swollen, and she can see what she assumes is whisker burn across her collarbone. And as much of a mess as she looks, she also notices something else. She looks relaxed. Happy, even. Her eyes are missing the lines that normally surround them and her brow is free of the normal creases that line it due to her constant stress. So as scandalous as her activities have been and as easily as the details of her time on this farm could destroy her career should it be leaked to the press, she finds that she can't muster up a proper amount of regret for it.

"Babe, you okay?" she hears him call from the bedroom.

Rachel quickly uses the restroom and then washes her hands before walking back into the room. She stands at the foot of the bed and marvels at the man who is lying atop the covers, his nakedness on display.

"I'm great, actually," she says. He raises his arm and motions for her to rejoin him in the bed. She bites her lip and smiles because she knows that a few soft, nuzzling kisses will turn into heated lovemaking in just a matter of moments and she lets a thrill – the type of thrill normally reserved for sold-out arenas and platinum records – sluice through her.

As long as the storms continue outside, she's stuck here. She hopes it's for another day (or two days or even a week) or so, at least, because she's not ready to leave. Puck's hands slide between her thighs and she opens them for him automatically. She's already burning again and thinks that maybe, when it _is_ finally time to leave, she'll ask if she can come back. He's really not that far from Nashville at all (once she figures out where the hell she actually is.) And when he tucks her beneath him and whispers her name, she thinks that he may actually just like her just a little bit more than he's let on. That's totally fine by her because he may be disgusting and perverse but he's also a bit on the wonderful side, too. And most important of all, he's _real. _After years of being treated like a queen, she's needed a little bit of realism in her life. And even if that realism comes in the form of a 5'11", swearing farmer, she'll take it.


	2. Part 2

**Author's Note:** So yeah, this story was supposed to be a oneshot… But I'm not ready to let these two in this 'verse go yet so now it's a multi-chapter fic! Enjoy!

* * *

_Two months later…_

Noah Puckerman is wiping his brow with the old red handkerchief he keeps stuck in the back pocket of his jeans when he sees the Audi turn off the dirt road and onto his gravel driveway. He grins at the approaching car and kicks up the throttle on his John Deere, heading quickly out of the field and back towards the house. By the time he gets there, parks the machine, and hops off, his girlfriend is pulling her Chanel suitcase out of the trunk of her car.

"Hey, baby," he says, sauntering up to her.

Rachel Berry turns and beams, stopping to appreciate the fact that her boyfriend is shirtless and sweating. He bends to kiss her and she kisses him back, pushing the brim of his Stetson away from his forehead so she can see his eyes while _trying_ not to let the intoxicating scent of him pull her under too quickly.

"I missed you," she whispers in that voice that he thinks is so goddamn cute that it makes him want to both hug her and then fuck her 'til she's stupid.

"Missed you, too, babe. And I thought the interview went well," he says once they've parted and he's taken the handle of her expensive suitcase into his dirty palm.

Rachel turns and rolls her eyes at him. "_Please_. That Joy Behar is a _bitch. _Remind me to never, _ever_ go on 'The View' again as long as I live! And that Elizabeth Hasselback? She's either got her lips adhered to someone's ass cheeks or she's trying to start a fight. I really don't like any of those women on that show. They're all a bunch of yentas…except Whoopi, I _loved _Whoopi to pieces!" Rachel stops on the edge of the porch and looks pointedly at Puck. "And do you know the absolute worst part? I had to go on _after _Howie Mandell. What kind of world do we live in where I play second fiddle to _that _guy?"

Puck lets out a deep belly laugh and pulls the door to his house open, ushering her inside. He walks into the bedroom, tosses her suitcase down on his bed, and then takes her in his arms again. "I thought you were awesome. And goddamn, in that little red dress of yours? You looked so fuckin' hot that I may or may not have had to rub one out afterwards."

Rachel cocks her brow, casting Puck a somewhat repulsed look. "You may or may not have rubbed one out? You can't remember?"

Puck rolls his eyes. "Okay, fine, I _did_…but _fuck, _you can't look that good on national television, baby…it's not fucking fair!"

Rachel screws up her nose and then laughs. "You're disgusting, Noah Puckerman!"

Grinding himself against Rachel's front, he laughs and kisses her, slipping his tongue into her mouth and dueling with hers until she moans against his lips, before pulling away. "Whatever…like you don't touch yourself when we're not together. You're a sex fiend, Rachel Berry."

Groaning at him in irritation, Rachel decides to veer to a more comfortable subject and asks, "Did you save the interview? I would enjoy seeing it."

Puck bends and kisses her again (because he can never fucking get enough of her when she first gets back to his place), squeezing her ass through her expensive silk shirt. "Sure did. I have it on the DVR because I _knew_ you'd want to watch yourself again."

Rachel laughs and winds her arms around his neck, ignoring the sweat still clinging to his skin. "You know me too well already," she said softly, looking into his hazel eyes. Puck brushed his lips against hers again and then says, "I need to get back to the fields. There's storm clouds building and I gotta get some of this stuff done before it rains."

Sighing, Rachel pulls away. "That's fine. I'm going to unpack and then maybe I'll take a bubble bath. I can stay for an entire week this time so I'll just entertain myself." She walks over to her suitcase and unzips it before looking over her shoulder at him, "but don't take too long, okay?"

Puck smirks and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Not a fucking chance, babe."

…

Three hours later, the sun is starting to drop lower into the sky and Puck is finally done for the day. After he pulls his tractor inside the equipment barn for the evening, he goes out to the barn and checks on the horses and then finally heads inside. He's greeted to the smell of chili when he walks in.

Following the smell, he steps into the kitchen and appreciates the view of Rachel standing over the stove in a pair of tiny shorts and one of his shirts.

"Chili?" he asks, causing her to jump and spin away from the stove.

She grins and nods. "Vegan chili with Morningstar crumbles and five kinds of beans. It's _delicious._"

Puck grumbles because it's going to be another meatless dinner but is secretly relieved that he doesn't have to eat his own cooking for once. "I'm gonna go take a shower, baby, so turn that down low and we'll eat when I'm out."

Puck takes a quick shower, standing under the cool spray long enough to wash the grit and the grime off his skin. He catches himself smiling into the water because he's so glad Rachel's back. Since her car got hung up in the mud outside his house two months before and he ended up going down on her in the barn (and then having tons of hot sex until the power finally came back on and the rain went away), they've kinda been a "thing." Now, he's not ready to put any fucking labels on it yet, no way… but she's the only girl he's fucking and for him, that's almost as serious as a goddamn engagement. He's been blowing off all his regular hook-ups (Santana, Tina, that chick whose name he can't remember but that could suck the chrome right off his souped up, antique Farmall) for weeks now and they're starting to get pissed. So yeah, she's kinda his girlfriend. But the thing is, even though he doesn't see Rachel all the time because she's busy being famous and shit, he doesn't even _want _to see those other women. They're…well, they're straight-up _blah_ when he compares them to Rachel (and he sure as fuck has.)

Rachel tends to get a bitchy attitude over minor things and she talks about people he's only seen on TV all the damn time but she's really fucking passionate and giving and she seems to need something more out of her life. He's not sure why she thinks she's found it with him but he's not going to question that shit…no way. For now, he's going to enjoy the times they get to be together, fuck her 'til she can't walk, and then send her back to Nashville and LA to do her thing and be amazing until she's ready to come back for a little more of the Puckzilla.

Dating/fucking/hanging with an internationally known, platinum-record recording artist is surreal and he's still adjusting to the whole thing but _whatever _because this shit? Best thing that's ever happened to him and he's gonna fuckin' take what he can get. A few weeks ago, she made him play his guitar and sing for her and now it's become one of their "things." She keeps telling him that he could make it in the industry if he wanted to and that she'd help him get there…but the thing is, he's not sure he _wants_ to. He sees how exhausted she is and how frustrated she gets when everybody wants a piece of her and she gets worn out as fuck and just wants to sleep. He's not sure he wants that in his life and he knows that he sure as hell doesn't need it. His music is just one of his things… He'll let her sing and he'll farm and work in the shop up in town doing repairs and they'll be fine.

When he's finally cleaned off and feeling rejuvenated, he cuts off the shower, slides into a pair of sweatpants and a wife beater, and pads into the kitchen. Rachel's standing at the bar, sipping a glass of iced tea and reading something.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" he asks, stepping up to her to drop his arm across her shoulders.

"Looking at this seed catalog. How in the world do you know which one of these to order, Noah? Hybrids, heirlooms, genetically modified? It's all so confusing!"

Puck scowls at her for using his first name and not his nickname but then grins and closes the catalog. "I don't order any of that shit. I walk into the store up in town and they hand me the same bags of seeds they've handed me for a few years now. I'm not running a huge operation here, ya know."

Rachel looks up at him as she takes another drink of her tea and says, "You could have fooled me. How many tractors do you have?"

Puck laughs and walks over to the chili to stir it. "Five…and that's because they're badass and I like 'em. I don't need that many, fuck no."

Rachel rolls her eyes and moves to get some bowls out of the cabinet. As she stirs the chili, she instructs Puck to get the vegetable plate out of the fridge and set the table. She catches herself watching him as he obediently does what he's told and she bites her lip. She loves coming here to see him. Yes, she's woefully out of her element but he's taught her a few things so far. She doesn't get to spend a lot of time with him but she's started to arrange her schedule in a way that will allow her to see him more. And best of all, she's starting to record her new album next week in Nashville so she'll be nearby and will hopefully have a lot of time with him.

She watches him pour himself a glass of tea and grab some napkins to put on the table and she appreciates the way his muscles move beneath his bronzed skin. She's dated several celebrities and even a famous chef but _none _of them make her body react the way this man does. She's not sure she's ever been around someone so blatantly sexual in her life and it honestly drives her crazy (in the best possible way.) In the past, she's been reserved in the areas of intimacy but something about him just makes her forget her inhibitions and just let go. Two months into this little arrangement, she knows she's well on her way to falling for him. It scares her to death because she's not comfortable letting people into her inner circle (and it's hard to know who to trust when she's been earning millions of dollars a year, every year, since she was 16.) But this man, she thinks, may be worth taking a chance. When she's with him, she's just _Rachel. _She's this woman who can sing and has spent the last eight years in front of a camera but none of that matters to him. He doesn't treat her like she's royalty and it makes her feel so…normal. And after enough nights out here on the farm, she's no longer creeped out by the sound of crickets so she thinks she's experiencing personal growth. And she has that man, with his gorgeous eyes and beautiful face and work-hewn body that turns her to spaghetti, to thank for it.

Rachel finally pulls her mind away from lusting over her boyfriend and ladles the chili into bowls. When she sets the bowls down on the table, she watches as Puck dumps tons of cheddar cheese into his chili. He just ticks an eyebrow up at her, grins, and then digs in.

"S'good," he tells her after a few chews and then adds, "even if I can totally tell that this isn't real meat."

Rachel laughs and scoops out some chili, relishing the taste because she's starving. After she chews and swallows, she says, "I talk to to Carrie today and she said—"

Puck interjects quickly. "Carrie who?"

Giving him a _duh _look, Rachel answers, "Carrie Underwood? You know…blond, country singer?"

Puck scowls and says, "I know who Carrie Underwood is…anyway, you were talking to her and...?"

"And we were discussing about how Dolly and Leann have both done crossover albums…and Carrie thinks I should do a country album sometime! Isn't that nuts?"

Puck watches her talk animatedly and smiles. She's always dropping names. And he knows it's not to be a snob or a bitch – it's just that she associates with these famous people every fucking day. He doesn't exactly give a damn about Carrie or Dolly or Leann but he loves hearing the stories because it turns out that a lot of these celebrities? _Totally _regular people once the cameras are off. He's impressed with that and so he tries to be less critical of the people he sees on TV because when they're watching together and he's hurling insults, he never knows which ones he's insulting are going to turn out to be Rachel's friends (except Gwyneth Paltrow. Rachel's already established that she _hates _that woman's guts because every single time they've met, Gwyneth's been all "do you _know_ who I am?" and Rachel's been all "your movies suck" and they generally don't like one another so Puck knows he won't get in trouble when he sees her and screams "there's cunt face again!" at the TV.) He's made her promise, though, if she meets Kanye or Snoop, she's gotta get him an autograph.

Puck leans back in his chair and grins at her before shoving a piece of celery into his mouth. "You doing a country album? I totally don't see it."

"Noah!" Rachel scoffs and then corrects him. "I believe my voice is perfect for many of the country power ballads that are popular today."

Puck shakes his head. "Nope…you speak too properly. And I've never heard you say 'ya'll'. It just wouldn't work."

"I'll have you know that Darius Rucker transitioned to country and he's done _amazing. _I'm not saying that I want to become a full time country artist but I spend so much time in Nashville that the idea of at least doing a single just to see how it would go is appealing."

Shrugging, Puck says, "Okay, fine. I'm all for it. Just _please _promise me that if you start singing country, you won't let your ass spread like Wynonna's because, _fuck, _that's not attractive."

Rachel glowers at him and then tosses a carrot stick at his head. Laughing, Puck shoots outta his seat and grabs her around the waist, hauling her up out of her chair. He plops himself down in her former seat and slides his hands underneath the shirt she's wearing to cup her breasts. She shifts in his lap, expelling a breath, and says softly, "Noah, dinner's not done yet."

Puck pushes her shirt up and bends his head. Right before he can capture a nipple between his lips, he rasps, "It'll keep."

Rachel tosses her head back and feels that the ends of her hair have landed in her chili bowl. She grumbles and pulls the shirt over her head, using it to absorb the small bit of tomato juice from the ends of her hair. When she's satisified that it's not going to drip, she pushes the bowl away from the edge of the table and leans forward, brushing her nose against Puck's.

"You always do this to me, you know," she says in a low voice.

"Do what?" His hands slide up and cup her breasts again. He's already so fucking hard that it's ridiculous. The things this woman can do just by being within a few feet of him…

"You always make it impossible to finish the simplest of tasks. I can't count the number of dinners you've interrupted for sex in the past two months."

Rachel shifts in his lap, sliding back so that she's perched practically on his knees. She skates her hand down his abdomen and into his sweatpants, where her fingers circle and then stroke his cock a few times. Puck groans and pushes himself into her hand, his arms settling around the small of her back to hold her in his lap.

She lets her lips brush over his neck and up over his jaw while she strokes him and she already feels like she's out of her mind from needing him. She lets go of his cock, eliciting a grunt of protest, and then stands up to quickly shove her shorts and panties to the ground. Puck grins and pushes his sweatpants down, stroking himself with a slow, steady hand a few times as he watches her settle over him. When she locks her lips to his as she slides down onto his length while he sits in the dining room chair, she thinks that she's never done anything so wanton in her entire life. Or so wonderful.

* * *

The next day, Rachel has to keep herself entertained because it's one of those days where Puck has to go into the nearby town of Celina to work at the auto repair shop. She hates that he's gone but it affords her time to get some extra rest (considering he keeps her awake half the night having sex (and okay, sometimes she keeps _him _awake)) and get caught up on emails and phone calls.

She's sitting at the dining room table reading a music blog when she sees a grey pickup truck turn into Puck's driveway and head toward the barns. Rachel's heartbeat quickens because she and Noah haven't discussed what she's supposed to do if she sees strangers lurking around his property (because why would they have that discussion) so she panics. Carefully, she steps outside and stands on the edge of the porch, her eyes scanning Puck's property. The truck is now parked by the equipment barn and the next thing she knows, there's a strange man driving out of the barn on Puck's newest tractor. Before she can even realize what she's doing so that she can stop herself, she's off the porch, running across the yard and out onto the graveled lot that separates the house from the outbuildings. She jumps in front of the path of the tractor and waves her hands frantically at the man, who slows the tractor to a stop and stares at her like she's completely insane.

"Can I help you?" he asks, confused.

"I think I need to be asking _you_ that! Why, exactly, are you on _my _boyfriend's tractor? If I need to call the authorities I will because I'm sure Noah wouldn't appreciate you driving off with this and he'd never forgive me if I just let you go. He _loves _this big, stupid thing and so you need to _get off it _right now before I call the law."

The man turns the tractor off and, as he stares at Rachel, pulls his cell phone out of his shirt pocket and dials a number. He waits a few seconds and then she hears the man say, "Dude, you maybe wanna explain to me why there's a pop star staying at your house? Oh, and why she just called you her boyfriend?"

…

"So you scared the fuck outta Finn today," Puck tells Rachel as soon as he gets home. They're standing in the bedroom and he's stripping off his coveralls as she sits on the edge of the bed, a guilty look on her face.

Rachel goes red-faced. "I'm sorry, Noah. I just saw him on your tractor and, good _god, _I know how much you love that stupid green monstrosity because of the way you drone on and on about it, and I was afraid he was stealing it…"

Puck just laughs and pulls Rachel against him. "So I'm not able to hide our whole thing anymore after you made an ass outta yourself. Once Finn was able to wrap his head around the fact that _you_ were yelling at him, he hunted me down at the garage and made me spill my guts."

"Will he say anything?" she questioned nervously. "Because I really like the anonymity I have here and I don't want that to be spoiled."

"Nah," Puck shook his head. "Finn's my boy. We've been best friends since we were about five years old. But I was thinkin'… you maybe wanna meet the rest of our crew?"

Rachel's eyes grew huge. "Meet your friends? Are you serious? Can I trust them?"

"Baby, they're friends with _me._ Of course you can trust them. I was thinkin' maybe we could have 'em all over on Friday for a cookout, I can introduce you as the hot little piece of ass that's _all mine_, and you'll get to meet a few people. You up for that?"

Rachel is hesitant. Meeting new people always makes her leery because it is so hard to discern who is trustworthy and who isn't.

Puck watches the hesitation play over her face and bends to kiss her nose. "I promise that they won't be gold digging, untrustworthy assholes. Besides, anybody who crosses me gets busted in the face…it's kinda common knowledge 'round here."

Biting her lip for a second, Rachel finally nods. "Yes, okay…let's have a cookout. I think it could be fun."

Chuckling, Puck lets go of Rachel so he can pull on a clean shirt. "And baby, I'm gonna finally get you drunk on Friday night. So be prepared."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel leaves the bedroom and heads back towards the dining room. It's imperative that she finds some ideas for how to make a cook-out vegan friendly. And she works hard to ignore her nerves at the prospect of letting Noah's friends know who she is and that she's there. But she's already come this far with him and she knows, without a doubt, that she can trust him. Besides, she could use a few friends in the area.

* * *

**Next up: **Rachel starts meeting Puck's other friends (the gleeks!)


	3. Part 3

**Author's Note:** I'm so happy that this little AU world is being so well-received! And I'm having a blast writing in this world, too. I'm so used to writing about how Puck and Rachel get together that writing them actually together is great fun!

Alma, the plot point we discussed this morning has been bumped to a later chapter but it has to be used because it's HILARIOUS!

* * *

Puck's pretty proud of his epic cookout planning skills. By Friday, he's invited all his friends and Rachel's actually excited about the event. She's completely given up on planning a vegan-friendly cookout after he assured her that there was no way in hell that anything made out of tofu was going to touch the expertly seasoned grates of his prized GrillMaster. Even though he's being completely ridiculous and tells him, in no uncertain terms, that he's acting like an ass, he doesn't budge on the issue and tells her instead, "You eat that healthy, not-real-meat shit every fucking day. You'll survive because shit, baby, I'm pretty sure that crap melts on contact with flame anyway. It's _not real food." _Because she's intelligent enough to know when she's facing a loss cause, she switches gears and plans for a lot of vegetables and a delicious, crowd-pleasing pasta salad. Despite her superstar status, she's always loved to cook and so she even makes a vegan cherry pie for dessert.

About an hour before the guests are suppose to start arriving, Rachel heads into Puck's bedroom and starts to get dressed. She's pulling her magenta, sleeveless top over her head when Puck tromps in from outside and stops in the doorway, crossing his arms as he watches her. She's slipping on her sandals when she notices him standing there.

"Do I look presentable?" She twirls for him and he whistles loudly before stalking over to her. When he's standing so close behind her that she can feel the heat radiating from his body (and it makes her weak), he looks down and appreciates her backside.

"Holy fuck, baby, that's the shortest skirt I've ever seen. All that thigh and bare shoulders, too? Tryin' to fuckin' kill me, aren't you?" Puck likes what he sees. Scratch that, he _loves _what he sees. Just looking at all that bronzed leg gets him half-hard and he knows she's going to be torturing him for the entire night. He can't remember the last time he had the urge to fuck someone as much as he has the urge to fuck this woman every hour of every day. He blames it on the fact that he goes a week or two without seeing her sometimes because that's the easiest possible answer. But she's so goddamn sexy and confident (and bossy in bed) that he's pretty sure they won't make it through the entire cookout before he's inside her. He doesn't tell her, though, because then she'll avoid him all night (she only has slightly more self control than he does) just to make sure nothing happens.

Rachel grins at him over his shoulder and feigns innocence. "I just want to stay cool in the sun."

Puck lets his hand travel up her thigh until she pushes it away. Laughing, he heads over to change out of his dirty clothes and make himself look less like a slob.

An hour later, the same pickup truck from earlier in the week pulls onto the gravel driveway.

"They're here," Puck yells from the porch.

Rachel finishes fixing her hair, brushes another coat of mascara on her lashes, and then heads outside. When she gets there, the tall _non_-tractor thief, Finn, is sliding out of the driver's seat and a blond woman is getting out from the passenger side.

Puck and Finn share a complicated handshake and then Puck pulls the woman into a hug before letting her go and dropping his arm over Rachel's shoulders. He can feel how tense she is even if she isn't showing it.

"Rach, you remember this asshole, right? Well, the hot woman next to him is his wife, Brittany."

Rachel smiles and steps forward. She's _on. _"Hello Finn, nice to see you again. And I apologize for the way I went off on you the other day." Finn smiles and she can tell that he's nervous around her. She's used to that reaction, honestly. She turns toward the blond woman and can tell that she's not nervous at all. "Nice to meet you, Brittany," she says.

Brittany smiles and then throws her arms around Rachel, pulling her into a hug. "It's awesome to meet you, Rachel. I'm a huge fan!"

When she lets go of Rachel, after she squeezes her shoulders so tightly that Rachel's afraid she may bruise, she smiles and asks, "Do you know Britney Spears?"

Rachel laughs. "I do, actually. And she's a very sweet girl. The press has been horrible to her but in reality, she's wonderful."

Brittany grins broadly and turns to Finn. "Told you!" Turning back toward Rachel, she adds, "Finn said Britney was too stupid for words and I _knew_ he was wrong."

Before Rachel can further defend Britney's honor, a car pulls up behind Finn's truck and they all watch the occupants get out. Finn turns to Puck and says, "Dude...did you invite your ex girlfriend to meet your new girlfriend? What kinda shit is that?"

Puck scowls at Finn. "Quinn and I are still friends, dude. And she fucking _freaks _over Rachel. I'm an ass but I'm not even that mean to deny her a chance at meeting someone famous."

When the man and woman walk up to the group, Quinn stops in her tracks and stares at Rachel. Then she looks over at Puck before looking back at Rachel again. Brittany steps in and says, "Quinn! This is Rachel Berry! She's Puck's girlfriend!"

Quinn's mouth falls open and the man standing next to her breathes out a "wow."

Rachel looks uncomfortably over at Puck who just rolls his eyes. "Quinn, you're fucking staring."

This seems to pull her out of her stupor because she shakes her head. "I'm so sorry! It's just... I knew we were coming here to meet Puck's new girlfriend but...I guess I expected..."

"Someone not famous? Someone like you?" Puck questions good-naturedly.

Quinn playfully glares at her ex-boyfriend before laughing and shaking her head at him. But then she turns toward his new girlfriend and extends her hand. "It's wonderful to meet you, Rachel. Puck took me to see you in concert last year. You were incredible."

"Thank you very much! I love performing and concerts are exhilarating."

"It shows," Quinn says honestly. The man next to her clears his throat and Quinn jumps, guilt crossing her pretty face.

"Oh! I'm sorry! Rachel, Puck, Finn, Brittany – this is my boyfriend, Will Schuester. He just moved here about six months ago. He teaches Spanish at the high school and he just took over the Glee Club from that creepy Mr. Ryerson."

Puck snorts in acknowledgment, apparently aware of this Mr. Ryerson man, and then shakes hands with the guy as he sizes him up. He's completely not jealous, of course (because he's got the hottest fucking girl on the planet), but he still wonders why Quinn's dating a dude that has crazy curly hair and looks to be about 15 years older than they are.

Will and Finn strike up a conversation about his work at the high school since Finn does grounds maintenance for the school and Quinn watches them, beaming that her boyfriend is already so relaxed around her friends.

When a huge black SUV pulls up, Puck groans and grabs Rachel around the waist. "Don't say a word, baby... I wanna see how long it takes before he notices."

Rachel doesn't know who "he" is but she nods anyway.

She watches as a black woman, a small white man, a black man, and a tall, thin Asian man climb out of the SUV. The Asian man walks around to the back of the SUV and pulls out a wheelchair as the black man helps another man, who is thin, out of the back of the vehicle. Once he's settled in his chair, they all head toward the group already standing in the yard. When they're about fifteen feet away, all hell breaks loose.

The white man, who is small and pale like a porcelain doll, shrieks like a banshee and stops in the middle of the yard. The black woman pauses and looks at him and so does the Asian man and the black man before they shrug their shoulders and continue to walk forward toward the small crowd. The man in the wheelchair ignores all of them and rolls right up to Puck and they exchange the same complicated handshake that Rachel saw Noah and Finn do earlier.

"What, Kurt?" Rachel hears the black woman say, her eyes darting around in the grass for a snake or a grasshopper or one of the nameless bugs that usually sends Kurt into a tizzy.

"Mercedes," he squeaks. "Look!" He raises his hand to point and suddenly, his manicured finger is aimed straight at Rachel.

Mercedes follows the finger and her eyes land on Rachel. "I'll be damned," she says.

"Rachel Berry," Kurt announces. "It's Rachel Berry." Then he turns and looks at Mercedes, wide-eyed. "It's Rachel Berry! Rachel Berry! _The _Rachel Berry!" He's shrieking now.

Puck lets out a laugh and says, "Hey Kurt, wanna maybe get your ass over here and meet her? She's not a fuckin' zoo animal."

While Kurt is apparently trying to catch is breath, Puck taps Rachel on the arm and says, "Mike, Matt, and Artie," as he points to each man. Rachel shakes their hands and smiles graciously at all of them and then turns her attention toward the man whose eyes are presently boring into her.

Kurt still hasn't moved so Mercedes punches him in the arm, which finally propels him forward. When he's finally in front of Rachel, he grabs her hand and shakes it. Vigorously. For a really long time.

"You're Rachel Berry," he tells her. Rachel laughs because his cheeks are red and he's panting. He looks like he's not a day over 16.

"I am," she confirms with an amused grin. She can already tell that it is safe to classify Kurt as an "extreme fangirl." She's used to them and she knows that (usually) if she lets the shock run its course, they're usually okay to be around.

"You're here," Kurt tells her, his mouth agape.

"I know," Rachel smiles. "I have been all week."

Kurt squeaks and then turns toward Puck. "Noah Puckerman, why in the hell did I not know about this? You know, absolutely _know, _how furious I was last year when you took Quinn to the concert and didn't get me a ticket. So why, in that pea-brain of yours, would you think it is acceptable to hide something as monumental as the fact that Rachel Berry is staying at your _house_?"

Kurt turns his attention back towards Rachel and realizes that he's been pumping her hand all this time. He drops it quickly and then meets her eyes. "I'm your biggest fan. I'm a huge fan. I absolutely worship you! Your voice is incredible and you sing such soulful songs and they touch my heart in ways that I can't even explain. All I know is that the entire world feels more at peace when you open your mouth. I can't believe I'm meeting you." Kurt fans himself with his hand and Mercedes rolls her eyes.

"Kurt, if you cry, I'm gonna break you in half."

Rachel spits out a laugh and turns toward Mercedes. "It's nice to meet you both. I am sorry that it's a little overwhelming. I didn't want Noah telling everyone before you got here because I try to keep my visits tightly under wraps."

"Visits?" Kurt yells excitedly. "There's been more than one? What?" He shoots Puck his perfected "eat shit and die" look and Puck just shrugs.

Kurt grabs Rachel's hand again and says, "I need all the details. I need to know how that deliciously muscled but oafish country moron over there snagged _you_ when you could have Ed Westwick. _Oh my god_, do you know Ed Westwick? If you know Ed Westwick, there's a good chance that I may die. I may literally light into flames and die right _here_!" Kurt's eyes widen and then he hurriedly adds, "Unless you know Lady Gaga. If you know her, too, I… I…"

Rachel looks at Puck helplessly as Kurt begins to tug her toward the picnic table. When she realizes that Puck's staring at her legs and not at her face, she squeaks out, "Noah?"

Puck jerks his eyes away from his girlfriend's gorgeous body and steps up, sliding Rachel's hand out of Kurt's. He puts his hands on Kurt's shoulders and shakes him gently, "Dude…relax. She'll be here all night. You can get all your questions about Ed Gaga and Lady Westwiff answered later. I swear, I'll give you a shit-ton of Q & A time with my girl as long as you _calm the fuck _down."

Kurt blinks a few times and then nods. "But can you please at least explain to me how the hell this Billboard-topping pop artist is _your _girlfriend?"

And that's how Noah's friends finally learn the entire story of how Rachel and Puck began dating (minus the very small detail of Puck going down on her in the middle of a thunderstorm while she was spread eagle on a bale of hay.)

…

Over the course of the next few hours, Rachel laughs more than she has in years. Noah's friends are fantastic. She is overwhelmed at how quickly she's accepted as just a regular person. She continues to catch Kurt staring at her in awe but he doesn't have anymore freak-out sessions and actually becomes laid back as the evening progresses.

She learns that Kurt and Mercedes recently bought the town's only salon and are in the process of renovating it to turn it into a spa experience ("because Celina is god-awful and needs some culture," Kurt explains.)

Artie is the band director at the high school so he and Will spend the majority of the evening hanging out, discussing their students and the school in general. Finn joins in on a lot of the conversations and Puck even puts in his two cents because apparently, all the men share a love of music.

Quinn tells Rachel that she works at the bank as the teller and that she's going to night school at the community college because she eventually wants to be a CPA. Matt actually lives in Nashville and works as a DJ but comes home to Celina whenever he can because he prefers his country friends over his citified friends. Mike, Rachel learns, is an enigma of sorts. He isn't the chattiest of guys but when he does talk, he has a lot of really interesting things to say. He works for the county department but teaches a few classes at Brittany's dance school.

Rachel quickly realizes that these people are all very different but that they seem to have all been friends since childhood and are fiercely loyal to one another. It doesn't escape her that they are as equally as friendly to the other new person in the crowd, Will, as they are to her. And she loves seeing how relaxed Noah is with all of them. She feels a twinge of sadness because yes, she has friends, but it's hard to have real, true friends when the motives of most everyone new in her life are usually under tough scrutiny. That's one of the reasons that she's still shocked about how she fell into this whole thing with Noah in the first place. She blames it on the rain and on exhaustion but she's thankful that for once, she let her guard down because it turned out to be a life-changing decision.

When Quinn notices Rachel standing on the edge of the crowd that's around the bonfire, she runs over and grabs her hand and pulls her back into the fold. Then she's laughing some more and answering the barrage of questions fired at her by his curious friends. She thinks, with a little time, that they could all be _her_ friends, too, and she smiles at the little thrill that shoots through her. Sometimes, it's nice just to be regarded as an ordinary.

…

Puck's eyes sweep over the yard and he sees Rachel standing in front of Kurt, Quinn, and Brittany. He can tell that she's showing them some dance moves (and he loves the way the muscles in her thighs move when she twists and bends like she's doing) because she turns around and then they all mimic her. He's kept one eye on her the entire night just to make sure that she isn't uncomfortable or that Kurt isn't trying to hump her leg. He remembers how tense she was when they all started arriving and he loves that now, she can laugh freely and has engaged every single one of his friends in some sort of extended conversation. He can't help but think that the fact that his girl's a talker comes in handy in these situations. She's so intelligent and well read that she's like a walking encyclopedia at times. But she doesn't try to shove her brains or her talent down anyone's throat, either (although he bets that as a kid, she was hell on wheels in that regard.)

He's also relieved as hell that his friends like her and that he doesn't have to hide her from them anymore. He's proud as fuck that she's his girlfriend (not because she's a celebrity but because she's just generally amazing) and he hated keeping it on the down low. Even though she and his friends are obviously from different worlds, she doesn't treat them like the small town hicks he knows they all are. And even though she fits right in, she also stands out. Her body is fucking amazing and her face is flawless and she's literally so goddamn beautiful that he feels like he could totally be her bitch and it wouldn't even bother him.

He watches her for a few more minutes and when he sees her shake her ass and flip her hair back, a smile turns his lips and he grabs a beer from the cooler, pops the top off, and heads over toward her. "What's goin' on?" he asks before he takes a pull from the bottle.

"Just showing them some moves from my last video," she explains before she adds, "at Kurt's request."

The three try the moves again and Kurt falls over so Brittany, clearly annoyed, shakes her head and makes Kurt watch her. Rachel's eyes widen.

"Brittany, you're really good! I mean, you're incredibly good!"

The woman smiles and shakes off Rachel's compliment. Puck pulls Rachel to him and says, "Britt runs the dance studio in town. She's been dancing for her entire life, I think."

"She's very gifted," Rachel said honestly. She's sat through hundreds of hours of auditions for backup dancers and Brittany Hudson is better than 9/10s of the dancers she's seen. She files that mental note away in case she needs it later. (After all, she has a tour scheduled for next year.)

Matt yells, "yo Puck!" and then Puck heads over to see what the guys need, leaving Rachel to return to dance lessons. He watches her, though, from across the yard and loves that she's laughing and smiling and she looks seriously relaxed right now. He has awesome friends, he knows, but he's pretty sure that she thinks so, too. Matt and Mike are arguing over the rules of cornhole (again) and Puck zones them both out because Rachel's doing this move that requires her to shake her ass, bend over and shake it again, before sliding slowly back up. His cock goes from the semi-hard state it's been in nearly all night to almost totally fucking hard and he groans. Matt and Mike glance over at him and then over at Rachel before rolling their eyes.

"Dude's oversexed," he hears Matt say.

Puck flips them both the bird and then whistles loudly. Rachel darts her eyes toward him and he ticks his head, indicating she needs to come over to where he is. She excuses herself from the girls (and Kurt) and heads toward him.

"What's up, Noah?"

Puck doesn't say anything. He drops his empty bottle onto the grass as his fingers wrap around her head and then he tugs her along behind him.

"Noah!" Rachel hisses, dragging her feet as Puck pulls her across the gravel and toward the equipment barn. "Where are we going?"

Puck ignores her, tugging her inside the entrance to the barn and into the dark. Once she is inside, he spins her around and presses her up against the cold metal wall, his lips descending on hers quickly. He kisses her for what feels like an eternity. He goes at her lips hard and then he's suddenly as gentle as can be before he groans and becomes insistent again. He waits until he hears her whimper ad then he makes his move.

In the dark, she hears his zipper go down and feels the whoosh of air that signals his pants dropping to the ground. All she can do is tilt her head back, lips half-open and eyes closed, as he pushes her skirt up around her waist, lifts her leg and hooks it around his naked waist, pushes the crotch of her thong aside, and slides his cock inside her to the hilt. She loves that he doesn't even have to feel if she's ready for him because he already knows her body so damn well.

His forehead falls forward, finding hers in the dark, and he kisses her softly as he slides out and shoves himself back in. "Fucking little tease, aren't you?" he groans, pulling nearly all the way out of her before roughly shoving his way back in.

Rachel doesn't answer, can't answer in fact, and only whimpers, her fingers clutching his arms through his shirt.

"You've been driving me fucking crazy all goddamn night, baby," he groans against her lips right before he grabs her other leg and wraps it around him, pressing her back hard into the wall as he gives up the need to go slow. "Fucking little skirt..." he mutters.

Rachel moans loudly when his cock hits her cervix, her mouth opening and then closing around the strong tendon in his neck. She sucks hard, pulls away, and tells him, "That was the whole point. I—" She doesn't finish her sentence because Puck jams himself inside her, swivels his hips to the point where she feels like she's going to burst because she feels so completely full, and then begins to rub her clit with his index finger.

Rachel's aware that her back is hitting against the wall with every thrust and she can't manage to locate the part of her that cares (the part that guides her sense of propriety, her awareness of how to act in public settings, and her ability to control herself.) She's almost positive that the racket from the vibrating metal wall is carrying all the way out to where Noah's friends are gathered and it _doesn't matter _because he's murmuring "baby, baby, baby" in her ear with every jerk of his hips and she's five seconds away from coming and she's going to take him with her when she goes.

"Noah, faster!" she commands with a growl, her voice desperate because she's on the edge of that wonderful cliff that he always leads her to way before she's ready. He laughs in her ear and drags his fingers along her thighs, his fingernails intentionally scraping along her soft flesh because he knows she loves it, before his hands bracket her hips her tightly to push her back and angle her upward, changing the depth of his penetration. His pelvic bone slams into her clit at nearly the same time that he hits that spot deep inside her and all it takes is four more thrusts like that and she's completely gone.

She shouts his name as her walls quake around him, her head slamming back into the metal. He grunts hers in response, laced with expletives, over and over again _(__Rach...goddammit...Rachel...Rach...fuck...Rachel...holy shit...Rachel__) _as he's expending himself inside her.

When the aftershocks have stopped, Puck's lips find hers in the dark and he kisses her hungrily, their tongues dancing into each other's mouths over and over again. He finally slides out of her and feels for her skirt in the dark, pulling it back down over her thighs (well, what little bit of thigh this skirt actually covers.)

"I'm going to need to slip inside and clean up," she tells him before she tilts her head to kiss him again.

Puck throws his arm around her as he guides her back toward the door. When he pulls it open, he promises, "We'll pick up where we left off later." She shivers because she's knows he's telling the truth and she can hardly wait until they're alone in the darkness of his chilly bedroom.

As soon as they're standing back out in the near-dark, they hear a wolf whistle and then some clapping. In the poor lighting, she can't tell from where or from whom it came but she still turns fourteen shades of red and presses her head into the crook of Puck's arm, supremely embarrassed now that the haze of sex has worn off. As they get back near the bonfire, she sees Finn with a grin on his face and he starts to open his mouth when he stops. Looking up, she sees that Noah's jaw is set and he's shaking his head.

She laughs, cheeks still crimson, and kisses his cheek because she can tell that he wordlessly just promised a beat down to his best friend. Then she escapes into the house to make herself presentable again.

...

When Rachel goes back outside a little bit later, she's more than relieved that no one mentions anything. In fact, everyone acts like she and Puck hadn't just slipped away from the party they were hosting to _rut _like barn animals (in a barn, no less.) She's relieved, instead, when Kurt finds her, tightens his fingers around her wrist, and drags her over to the plastic chairs by the bonfire so that she can inform him of every closeted celebrity she knows of. When she refuses, saying she can't betray the trust of her friends, Kurt smiles and tells Mercedes, "I'll wear her down. This is information that I _need_ to know."

Mercedes laughs and shakes her head. From the glint in Kurt's eye, Rachel can tell that he probably will.

...

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. By 12:30am, the fire is burning out, the music has been turned down, and Rachel is dozing in the rocking chair on the porch. She hears someone say her name and forces herself awake. She walks down into the yard and Puck slips his arm around her waist as they say goodnight to his friends.

Once they're gone, Puck douses the fire with the water hose while Rachel collects the stray trash up and throws it away. As soon as they're satisfied that everything else can wait until morning, Puck puts his hands on her shoulders and guides her inside the house.

Rachel heads to the bedroom and slips out of her skirt, top, and panties (because she's learned there's no point in leaving them on at night when he's just going to take them off again) and then puts on her (his) shirt and pulls back the covers. Puck flips out the hall light and steps into the bedroom, quickly shucking down to nothing.

When they both slide into bed, Puck pulls at her arm until she's got her head on his chest and then kisses her forehead. "Sorry I didn't get you drunk tonight after all, babe."

Rachel rocks her head against his shoulder. "No, I'm glad I stayed sober. I really enjoyed my time with your friends and I couldn't have done that inebriated. Besides, first impressions are everything."

"They liked you," he tells her as they both watch the moonlit shadows undulate across the ceiling.

'I liked them," Rachel says honestly. "They all seem like really wonderful people. Kurt came on a little strong, of course, but they're all interesting, funny individuals."

Puck chuckles and tugs at the hem of Rachel's shirt. "Kurt is beyond fucked up. He's really kind of a bitch but he's a good guy to have in your corner. I actually bullied him in high school," Puck admits, and then laughs. "Used to throw him into dumpsters."

"Noah!" Rachel shrieks in disgust. "That's horrible! Why would you do that?"

Puck shrugs in the dark. "Babe, I was 16. Why the hell _wouldn't _I? I ran that high school. Hell, I think my muscles were bigger than my brain."

A silent beat passes and then Puck hears Rachel whisper, "they still are." Then he feels her narrow finger jab him in the side as she laughs at her own barb (it's so goddamn cute when she does that) and he knows it's _on. _Rolling her under, he says something about showing her his most impressive muscle, which causes her to groan and flick him in the shoulder.

But then he kisses her, slow and sweet, like she's the appetizer, main course, and dessert all rolled into one. Then his hand cups her breast through the thin cotton and she's suddenly pliant and more than willing to see whatever muscle he feels like displaying.

Later, they climb out of bed for a late-night shower and she lets him take her up against a wall for the second time in four hours. When she comes down from wherever it is that her mind goes when he makes her feel that way, she kisses him hard, savoring the taste of his mouth and the solid feel of his body. She has to leave to go back to Nashville before the weekend is out and a part of her, the part that forgets about everything else when she's here, hates leaving. But the career-driven part of her, the part that's made millions of dollars by working her ass off, knows that she has to do what she has to do. She'll give it her all, get things done out _there_, and she'll soon be back _here_ for more lazy kisses and urgent touches. The part of her that craves that (which is every part of her) can't wait.

* * *

**Next up:** More fun on the farm!


	4. Part 4

Rachel's recording stint in Nashville lasts exactly two days before a fire in one of the floors below the studio renders it too damaged to use. Three hours later, she's on a flight to LA. She's already called Puck to tell him and he tells her to be careful and kick some ass out in California. Even though he doesn't guilt-trip her at all about leaving (why would he?), she still feels guilty when she hangs up the phone. As she's leaving Tennessee airspace, she realizes that it's not guilt at all but sadness. She's actually starting to feel at home here.

Once she's in LA, she knows that her record label has her at their disposal. Her recording session ends up lasting two weeks because she's the consummate perfectionist and every track must be beyond pristine before she deems it done. Once the tracks have _finally _been laid, the people at her label take it upon themselves to schedule the album cover photo shoot since she's already in town. And then she's off to several label-arranged appearances that keep her so busy for days on end that her head is practically spinning.

On a Friday morning, Rachel finds herself at the studios for an appearance on _Good Day LA. _She really doesn't like the show much because the three hosts are positively unnerving but they've been very supportive of her throughout her career. She believes in supporting those that support her so, despite her discomfort, she routinely makes appearances on the show when she's out in LA.

The bright studio lights are baking down on her when the male host, Steve, winks at her and asks, "So, Rachel, is there anyone special in your life?"

She smiles because they do this dance every time she's on the show. She never discusses her personal life and always gives them a pat answer. So when she opens her mouth and says, "Actually, yes there is," even she is a little surprised.

Steve, Jillian, and Dorothy all stare at her in shock and then Jillian prods, "And he would be?"

Rachel laughs, shaking her head from side to side in protest, and says, "He's just a regular man. He stays as far from the spotlight as one person can possibly get and still exist on the planet." She clams up at that point because she's not about to divulge any more information.

Steve stares at her quizzically before he looks at the camera. "You heard it here first, folks. Rachel Berry appears to be off the market!"

After they cut to a commercial break, Jillian immediately hounds Rachel for more information but Rachel just smiles and stays tight-lipped. "I've already revealed too much," Rachel tells her. Soon the cameras come back on for the next segment (about exploding breast implants) and Rachel leaves the studio. She smiles because, in a sense, the entire world now knows about Noah Puckerman, even if they don't know his name. Still, she's dated people before and never, ever disclosed any information about the relationships. The fact that she so readily _wanted _to admit to the world that she's involved tells her that her feelings for Noah go deeper than she's realized. The thought makes her heart flutter happily as she steps back out into the California sunlight.

* * *

Rachel calls Puck on Saturday night and tells him that her flight will put her back in Tennessee on Sunday evening. In the three weeks since he's seen her, his fridge has become filled with meat and cheese and other animal products that feed his stomach and his soul but would revolt his girlfriend.

Early Sunday morning, he finds himself at the grocery store. He's got plenty of produce at home (obviously) but there's all the soy-based crap that she loves to dump into her body that he's gotta get for her. Once his cart is loaded up with Silk soy milk, soy burgers, soy cheese, several types of vinaigrettes, and other vegan-friendly items, he realizes that he feels even gayer than Kurt. He's positive that this is the least-manly his shopping cart has ever been. The only thing that's missing is some pink bows decorating the cold metal...or maybe a glittered handle. Nonetheless, he feels _gay._

As he turns the corner to head to the checkout counter (and he can't wait to hide this stuff inside non-see-through paper bags), he stops short because there _she_ is.

_Santana._

_Shit._

He tries to use his finely honed reflexes and sneak back and away from her without being detected but one of the wheels on his ancient, piece-of-shit cart squeaks and suddenly, her dark eyes are boring two distinct holes into his skull.

"Puckerman!" she shouts.

_Fuck._

He turns toward her and gives her his typical, "hey baby, I can see right through your clothes" smile.

"Where the hell have you been? And why don't you return my calls, you asshole?" Santana has a long, slender finger in his face and he sees the anger flash in her eyes. He's been fucking Santana off and on for _years…_like, since they were in high school. And he knows that when she's pissed, she's at her absolute hottest. (They got into an argument once and then ended up having such rough sex that Santana managed to kick a hole in the wall.) If it were any other time, he'd totally be encouraging her until her anger was white-hot and then he'd follow her back to her place to reap the rewards. But now, he has Rachel so a tumble with Santana is definitely not on his list of "to-dos" that day (or any day).

"Been busy," he answers, crossing his arms to show that he's completely disinterested in her and her bitchy shit.

"Oh, really? Because word on the street is that you're seeing some hot mystery woman. I told Lucy Ann down at The Dairy Dish that _that_ bullshit rumor couldn't _possibly _be true because I'm the hottest damn thing in this town. Who are _you _gonna fuck that's hotter?"

When Puck doesn't answer and instead studies the contents of his cart like he's expecting them to reveal ancient world secrets, she barks, "Is it true? Are you seeing someone?"

"Um…yeah, I am," he says honestly. It's a huge relief to tell her because maybe now she'll stop calling and leaving shitty messages (if she doesn't stab him first.)

"Oh really? And who is the _lucky_ bitch?" Santana's voice seethes with disdain, the words "lucky bitch" rolling off her tongue in the same way that someone else might say "terrorist" or "the Ebola virus." Puck's not surprised at her reaction, though, because she's always acted like "property of Lopez" was stamped on his (exceptionally firm, well-shaped, generally fine) backside. She may not want him in a romantic sense but he knows that he's one hell of a good fuck and Santana? She likes sex. A lot. And she _loves _it with him. And now, he's taken the goods away. He honestly can't blame her for getting pissy because if _he_ was fucking someone as awesome as himself and was suddenly denied, he'd be pissed, too.

Puck's jaw flexes. He wants to tell her who he _is _seeing because that would shut Santana up faster than anything else. But he knows that Rachel guards her privacy and he may have introduced her to his friends but there's no way on God's green earth he's gonna tell _this chick _about _his Rachel. _

"She's not from around here," Puck finally says.

He sees Santana's cheeks redden slightly and he can tell that she's beyond furious. But when she speaks, it's as cool as a business transaction. "Well, don't come crawling back to me when you're bored with her. And I promise you, you _will _get bored with her, whoever she is."

Santana stares him down again when he doesn't answer and Puck wonders if she's putting some voodoo hex on him at that moment. But she finally flips her long brown locks and as she steps away, says, "Later, Puck. Have fun with your new little tramp."

Puck watches her go and shrugs. She's such a huge bitch. That's half the reason he's always been so attracted to her. They never let feelings get involved. They fuck like crazy until they go their separate ways, only to meet up again a few weeks later. He rarely lets his heart get involved with _any _woman and even after all these years, he's not even sure that Santana _has _a heart.

Back at home, he's still thinking about the encounter with Santana and how he didn't even have any urge to be with her. All he really wanted to do was get home and get the place straightened up for Rachel's arrival. And then he looks at the entire section of his fridge filled with nothing but soy products and grins because he realizes that he may just be fucked in the absolute _best _possible way. It's okay, though, because if he's gonna let emotions get involved, it might as well be with a woman like Rachel Berry. (After all, sex with Rachel? Blows Santana right out of the water.)

* * *

As soon as Rachel's plane lands in Nashville, she sends Puck a text to let him know that she's on her way. Then she gets her car from long-term parking and heads back toward Puck's house. She's already tired and the 90-minute drive out to the country only intensifies her exhaustion. She has an apartment in Nashville and she knows she could stop there for the night but the thing is, she doesn't want to. She _misses _Noah. It's been three weeks since she's seen him and although they've talked on the phone, they haven't had a real conversation since she left.

She finally pulls into his driveway at nearly 11pm. As she draws closer to the house, she sees that the porch light is on and it's casting the entire area in a yellowish hue. It's just a light but it fills her chest with warmth and she _almost _lets herself think, "I'm home."

When she parks, she sees him pushing open the screen door and by the time she has her car door open, he's standing a few feet away. She smiles at him from the seat and he practically yanks her out and pulls her into a heavy kiss.

"Missed you," he tells her in between nips at her lips.

Rachel just wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him with urgency as she pulls his chest against hers, reveling in the feel of his broad hardness. When she comes up for air, she nuzzles her head against his neck, yawns, and says, "I missed you, too. I can't wait to get some sleep."

Puck laughs and lets go of her, grabbing her suitcase from the trunk before sliding his arm around her waist and guiding her into the house. He drops the suitcase in a corner of the bedroom and watches as she undresses. He can tell that she's completely worn out. There are lines under her eyes, which are also red and watery, and she just looks _tired_. When she yawns again, he feels pity for her and pulls back the covers. She pulls her favorite shirt over her head and then smiles blearily at him before she sinks into the bed and groans when the cool sheets touch her skin.

Flipping off the light, Puck crawls in next to her and throws his arm around her, pulling her against him in the dark.

She turns to kiss him and when they part, he whispers, "Sleep, babe."

Rachel protests. "But…I figured you'd want to—"

Puck doesn't let her finish. "Baby, you're completely fucking exhausted. Get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere tomorrow…I'll be right here. So sleep."

Rachel nods in the dark and snuggles against him. She mumbles something that sounds like "you're right" or maybe even "goodnight" and then she's out. Puck follows soon after. He's discovered that he sleeps ten times better when she's next to him.

* * *

She definitely has more energy the next morning. He goes from snoring to hard as fuck in about 12 seconds flat when he opens his eyes and sees her pulling her shirt over her head as she straddles him. He doesn't let go of her hips again until she's shaking and her hair has that just-been-fucked look to it (because he can't keep his fingers out of her locks when he's inside her.) After that, they spend a few lazy hours in bed making up for their three weeks apart. But at 10:30am, her phone rings for the first time that morning. She makes a face when she answers it and then immediately starts launching into a conversation about sound and mixing and shit that means nothing to him. He rolls back over, pulls a pillow over his head, and lets himself fall back to sleep. When he wakes up again, she's trailing her fingernails over his naked ass and he's about to flip her over and pin her to the bed when the goddamned phone rings again. This time, it's her manager and she's stuck on the phone for what feels like half his life. She keeps sending him apologetic glances but he can tell the call's gonna last a while so he finally gets out of bed and gets in the shower. When he gets out, he finds that she's off the phone but has fallen back asleep. He thinks about letting her rest but then her phone rings again and it wakes her back up. Twenty minutes later, that conversation ends.

Rachel stares at him regretfully once she hangs up. "My manager is driving me nuts. Now that they're working on the album, they've got hundreds of questions. Many of them, she can answer but a few can't be handled by anyone but me." She bites her lip and then adds, "hence the phone calls."

Puck sits down on the edge of the bed and pushes her hair away from her face. He lets his annoyance go because at least she's there with him and that's a helluva lot better than her being out in LA. So he brushes his lips across her cheeks and then over her parted mouth before pushing his forehead against hers. "You look more rested."

"I feel better," she says honestly. "I was so exhausted last night. And I'm so happy to be back."

Puck stares at her for a moment and she can tell that the cogs in his brain are turning but he doesn't say anything. Finally, he asks, "Hungry? I stocked up on soy milk and Cheerios and all that other shit you like so feel free to get your cute ass in there and eat something."

Rachel beams at him. "You got me groceries?"

He stands up and puts his arm out, helping her out of bed. After he kisses her again, he grins and says, "'Course I did. I'm an awesome boyfriend, in case you hadn't noticed."

Rachel stretches and places a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Believe me, I've noticed."

…

She's rinsing her cereal bowl in the sink when her phone rings again. She's only on the phone for a few minutes and she watches Puck chew on a piece of bacon and read the newspaper as she talks. When she hangs up, he cocks a brow at her. "You're going on Letterman? Don't let that dirty asshole try to fuck you. You _know _he will. Dude gets _so much _ass for having that big gap between his teeth. Oh," he adds, "and for being old."

"Noah," Rachel is clearly exasperated, "I'm sure he'll be the consummate professional. I've been on his show before and it was nothing but pleasant."

Puck just shakes his head and dives back into his bacon. How she doesn't understand that everybody on the planet wants to fuck her is beyond him. He's kinda relieved that she's oblivious to it, though. He's really fucking stingy and not about to share.

…

By 7pm that evening, Rachel has taken what has felt like (to Puck) 127 phone calls. She's obviously weary again and he's so sick of that goddamned ringtone of hers that he's about to toss the damn phone in the toilet. It took her an hour to eat her dinner because of all the phone calls and it's when she's on the phone with either her father or her manager or her agent or some reporter (he stopped paying attention hours ago) that he gets a brilliant idea. While she's yapping away, he goes out to the storage barn and roots through a neatly organized stack in the corner. Once he's got a decent pile of the stuff he wants, he loads it into the back of his truck. When he goes back inside, he can hear her talking on the phone on the back porch so he grabs the cooler and fills it up with ice and snacks and drinks from the fridge. Before she can come back inside, he pops that into the back of the truck, too.

When she hangs up the phone, he's standing in the living room with his arms crossed.

"Put down your phone," he instructs, "and let's go for a drive."

Rachel looks down at her phone and he thinks she's about to protest. He knows she's attached to the damn thing and, considering that she's fuckin' famous and all, he knows he _has _to understand even if he hates it. But when she doesn't argue and instead, tosses it onto the couch, he kisses her on the forehead and pulls her outside with him. He helps her climb up into his truck and then they're heading down the gravel driveway.

"Where're we going?" she asks, her eyes on the scenery as they meander down his dirt road.

"You'll see."

A few minutes later, he's turning off the road and onto a worn path through a a hilly pasture. They climb up a small hill and then back down before heading up another one where he pulls over to the side. The hood of the truck blocks anything in front of them and Rachel stretches and scans, trying to see where they've stopped.

Puck helps her out of the truck and, before he lets her go, presses her against the side of the cool metal, pushing her shirt up slightly to feel her skin in his hands as he runs his mouth over her jaw. "Had to get you away from that fucking phone. And there's no better place than this."

He pulls away and shuts the door of the truck so she can finally see where they are. In front of her is a sandy, flat expanse of ground that holds a fire pit and a trash bin. Farther to the left is a small building. A very small, odd-looking building with a slanted roof.

Rachel's eyes widen and she swivels to face Puck. Before she can speak, he says, "Welcome to the Puckerman family campground."

"Campground? We're going camping?" She tries not to sound horrified but to be honest, she _is. _Camping involves sleeping in a tent, which is located _outside. _There are bugs and snakes and wild animals and, if movies have taught her _anything_ at all, escaped prisoners that have insatiable bloodlust for young, attractive women like herself.

Puck sees the shocked, terrified look on her face and laughs as he tugs her to him. "S'gonna be fine, baby… If I hear that damn phone ring one more time today, I'm gonna fuckin' snap. And you need time away from it anyway. And what better place is there than this?"

"The Hilton? The Ritz? The Savoy? I can go on," she deadpans (although she's also very, _very _serious.)

"You're in Celina now, baby," Puck tells her as he pops open the tailgate of the truck and begins pulling stuff out. "Hotel Puckerman is as good as you're gonna get."

Rachel looks around and her eyes settle on the small building again. "If you tell me that's an outhouse and not a storage shed, I may steal your truck keys back and leave you out here."

Puck snorts. "Sorry, Rach. That's the outhouse."

Puck turns away from her so she can't see the smirk on his face. He hears her sputter and then her voice gets a little higher-pitched as she starts to protest. "You want me to use the restroom in _there_? Noah? You do realize that we live in the modern world, right? Indoor plumbing? Running water? _No _real reason to ever spend time outside?" She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head, her eyes fervently fixed on the small, dilapidated building. "I'm not going to open up the door to that disgusting, germ-ridden outhouse and run into Laura Ingalls on her way back out to help Pa in the fields, am I?"

Puck ignores her little rant and grabs the hand sanitizer and toilet tissue, chucking them at her. She catches the roll but the bottle plops to the ground at her feet. She stares at the articles like they're foreign to her before bending down to snag the bottle.

"It's gonna be fine, I promise."

Rachel's too dumbfounded by his nonchalant attitude about the entire matter to notice that he's assembling a sleeping area when there's not tent in sight. When it finally dawns on her, she groans in frustrated resignation. "You don't even use a tent, do you?"

Puck shakes his head and winks at her. "Why would I? Sleeping under the stars is the best thing in the world."

Rachel feels dizzy and goes to lean against the truck. Puck watches her pinch the bridge of her nose and realizes that all this may be a little much for her. Walking quickly over to her, he puts an arm around her waist and kisses her temple.

"You'll be fine out here, I promise. There're no scary wild animals, other than maybe coyotes or a bobcat, that might be lurking around. And we'll have a fire going so they'll be too afraid to come near us. We're going to be _fine,_ babe, I one hundred fucking percent promise. Plus," he adds as he lets go of her to walk back toward the bed of the truck, "I brought my gun." He holds a rifle up long enough for her to see it and, although she abhors weapons of any kind, she has to admit that it makes her feel better. At least they have a fighting chance if a pack of rabid wolves pounce them during the night.

Rachel exhales loudly and crosses her arms, practically groaning when she says, "I didn't realize I was dating Daniel Boone."

Puck just laughs and lets go of her to start building a fire. He knows a night out here will toughen her up. Hell, all this fresh air in her lungs will probably make her sing better. He'll have to remind her of that.

…

Rachel leans back on the blanket and grabs Puck's arm, pulling it out to use as a pillow. She lies down flat on her back and supports the back of her head on his bicep. It's dark now and Rachel's a little bit more comfortable with the idea of a night under the stars (a very teeny, tiny bit.)

While she stares up at the sky, he's content to lie on his side and just look at her. He's seen these same stars a million times. She's still something relatively new to look at. With her features illuminated by nothing more than moonlight and the low flicker of a flame from the waning fire, he can't get over how stunning she is.

"The stars are so bright out here, Noah," she says after a few minutes of companionable silence. He finally rolls away from her and stares up at the sky. Everything does seem to be twinkling extra bright tonight. There're no clouds anywhere so their view is completely unobstructed. It's like they can see deep into the galaxy from their vantage point on that little Tennessee hill.

Rachel's watching what she thinks is a satellite progress through the heavens when she hears an owl hoot and tenses slightly.

"You're a wimp, babe," Puck whispers in her ear.

"I'm still not used to the country life," she tells him. "But I'm definitely less jittery than I was two months ago, right?"

Puck starts to snicker and then barks out a laugh when he remembers the first night she heard a coyote. They'd been dating for a few weeks and it was her first time back to the farm since her first, unplanned visit thanks to the rainstorm. After messing around on the couch, they'd finally agreed to head to the bedroom. They had just turned out the lights and were halfway down the hall when she'd heard the scream coming from somewhere in close proximity to the farmhouse. Rachel had jumped blindly toward Puck, snagging him around the neck in a stranglehold and they'd both fallen to the floor in a frantic heap.

"Call 911!" she'd shrieked. "There's a crime being committed right outside the house! I _knew _living in the country was dangerous!"

When she noticed that Puck wasn't calling the police but was, instead, rolling with laughter, she'd gotten furious with him for not taking a very real threat against their lives seriously. Once he'd explained that it was just a coyote, she'd been embarrassed. Her nerves finally calmed enough later to allow herself to sleep but she'd remained fitful all night.

"You've come a long way since then, baby," Puck assures her, kissing her before turning back towards the sky.

They both silently watch as a plane flies over, so high above them that it produces no sound.

"I just can't get over the quiet," Rachel comments after a few minutes. "It's like I can get lost in my thoughts out here."

Puck nods in the darkness. "S'why I like to come out here. Away from the TV and the computer and the phone and people. Do my best thinking out here, actually. Something about the sound of rustling leaves and crickets that really helps a guy figure shit out."

Rachel turns on her side, tucking her hand under her cheek, and asks. "What do you think about?"

Puck doesn't answer for the longest time. When he finally speaks, he offers, "Music, a lot of times. Or I just think about the shit going on in my life. Everything is easier when there are no fucking distractions."

Rachel reaches her hand out and lays it gently on his chest. His hand comes up and covers it and she scoots closer to him, burying her head against his side for a moment. When she pulls away, she says, "I can't imagine a life without any distractions. They're just everywhere. Someone always wants something from me or I'm always scheduled to be somewhere. The only time I can escape from most of it is when I'm here…with you."

Turning his head, Puck finds her lips and kisses her. It's so soft and gentle that it almost makes Rachel tear up. He pulls back slowly and turns toward the stars again.

"Do you think about me, too?" she says quietly.

Puck smiles. "Yup."

Rachel bites her lip and grins in the dark. She knows this, of course, because they're in a relationship and if he thinks about her even one fifth of the time she thinks about him, that still means that she's on his mind quite frequently. "What do you think about?" she asks coyly.

"Oh, you know...the usual. Your hot body. Your gorgeous face. How fuckin' hot you are in bed."

Rachel sighs because, of course, he isn't telling her anything that he hasn't told her before. "Anything else?"

"Yup," he answers simply.

"And that would be?" she prods.

Puck smiles into the darkness. "Not tellin'."

Rachel groans but she knows they're approaching iffy territory. She's only been with Noah for nearly three months but she knows him well already. Feelings aren't something he easily discusses. He shows her in a multitude of ways that he cares but the words don't usually come too smoothly. And honestly, she's okay with that. She always remembers that "actions speak louder than words" and times like last night, when he just wants her to get some sleep and doesn't worry about anything else, tells her everything she needs to know about how Noah feels about her.

Rachel buries her face in his neck and breathes in his scent. She can smell his signature Irish Spring soap but she also smells the outdoors. It's intoxicating, really. She's so completely out of her element out here that it's ridiculous. She's never been camping and she's certainly never slept under the stars. Her manager would have a fit if she even knew that Rachel was putting herself in any form of "danger." But she's with Noah and therefore, she doesn't feel scared at all. She knows that he's just trying to help her relax and she appreciates it. She also knows that she's probably missed about twenty phone calls but with Noah's hands slipping beneath her shirt, she doesn't care.

She lets him flip her so she's on her back and he's over her. They star at each other in the flickering light of the fire for a long time before she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him to her. Rachel loves to feel his weight pressing her into the bed or the couch or in this case, the sleeping back on top of the Tennessee dirt. She's definitely never had sex under the stars before but when his fingers find their way beneath her shorts and into her panties, she realizes that she's about to. And it's thrilling.

* * *

Puck's used to waking up early and the next morning is no exception. Rachel's curled against him, practically swimming in his t-shirt and the blankets tucked tightly around her to ward off the morning chill and dew, but she's sleeping soundly. Puck smirks because he wore her out last night. He's thankful there're no neighbors nearby because when she came, she came _loud_. Like, ten times louder than she normally is. Hearing his name echo off the trees as she clenched around him, rocking her hips against him to push him deeper inside her, made him come so hard that he'd nearly blacked out for a few seconds.

Puck looks down at her and grins. She did fine during the night. In fact, she slept so soundly that he even heard her snore a few times. He pushes the hair from her face and dropped a kiss along her temple and then over her eyelids before pulling back to continue to watch her. When she opens her eyes and meets his, she smiles lazily and stretches beneath the blankets.

"Morning," she whispers.

"Hey, babe, you sleep well?"

Rachel nods and stretches again. "Surprisingly, yes. I guess outdoors sex does that to you."

Puck chuckles and rolls onto his back, pulling her on top of him. Once she's sprawled over his chest, she pushes her hair out of her face and kisses a wet line up his jaw.

"You're very scratchy this morning," she comments of the day's growth now covering his face.

Puck tangles his fingers in her hair and kisses her intensely, uncaring that they both have morning breath and probably need to get home to shower. She seems so free and relaxed without a roof over her head that he wants to take advantage of it for it as long as possible.

Rachel grins at him when he pulls away and snakes her hand between them and down his body until she has her fingers firmly wrapped around his cock. "Somebody's happy to see me this morning," she comments, her fingers stroking him.

Puck groans and says, "Baby, you don't even fuckin' _know…_"

Rachel slips her tongue into his mouth as she strokes him. When she feels that he's practically throbbing in her hand, she angles him just right and sinks back down on him, pushing the covers off her back as she sits upright. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep growl because she's already so fucking wet and he's a little smug knowing that he can make her that way with just some kisses. He palms her breasts through her shirt and lets her guide the depth and intensity of the strokes, his eyes travelling up and down her body the whole time. Her hair is wild and her face is flushed and she's so fucking beautiful that he's afraid he's going to say something stupid. So before he can, he grabs her hips and flips them so that he's on top. And then he pounds into her fast and hard, chasing all words and thoughts from both their heads. When they both come minutes later, his face is buried in her collarbone and the only thing he lets himself say is, "Rachel…_fuck…_"

Later, they finally get up and pack up the campsite, throwing dirt to put out the last bits of the fire. He kisses her hard against the truck and as he helps her back inside, she says, "Thank you for the wonderful night, Noah."

He answers with a "no problem, babe," and closes the door.

Back at the house, she digs her phone from between the couch cushions and sees that she has 23 missed calls and 17 voicemails. No one is more shocked than she is when she drops the phone back on the coffee table, grabs Puck's hand, kisses him hard, and then says, "Let's shower and then have some breakfast. I'm starving."

As Puck guides her beneath the cleansing spray, he's pretty sure that a night under the Tennessee stars did her a shit load of good.

* * *

**Author's note:** Got stuck behind a big-ass John Deere on my way home this morning. Irrational excitement followed. Haha…I love me some farmers!

Also, I really am not sure how long this story is going to end up being. I know how I want it to end but we're definitely not there yet. My question to you, my lovely, awesome readers, is: anything you'd like to see incorporated in the story? Lemme know! Clicky, clicky!


	5. Part 5

It's on a Friday late in August, a little more than four months to the day that Rachel first met Puck, that she realizes she's going to have to venture into the actual small town of Celina for the first time. She needs moisturizer. She's out and she's got to have some. Puck's at work and she doesn't really want to go along so she calls Kurt up and once he stops shrieking into the phone about gladly driving the 90 plus miles to Nashville to pick up her favorite boutique, she asks him if he'll meet her at Walmart.

"Walmart?" Kurt questions. "Really?"

"I'm not letting you drive to Nashville, Kurt. And I'm positive that I can find something that will get me through until I have to leave again."

Kurt sounds hesitant but agrees to meet her. But before he hangs up, he says, "Be sure to wear a disguise!"

Rachel looks around the house because she realizes that Kurt is right. Obviously, she can't just waltz into Walmart without any form of a disguise because she's usually easily recognized in public. She searches the house for ideas and then finally just pulls her hair in a ponytail at the base of her neck and snags Puck's worn Stetson from the peg by the door, shoving it down over her hair. Sliding her big, Chanel sunglasses down over her eyes, she surveys herself in the mirror. She looks enough _not _like herself to not be noticed.

When she pulls into the parking lot, she calls Kurt's cell phone and he tells her he's standing out front waiting on her. She gets out, activates her car alarm, slides her sunglasses over her eyes again, and heads toward the door, her Louis Vuitton bag hanging from her arm. Kurt waves frantically when he sees her and then hugs her, appraising her up and down. "Girl, wearing that hat is like stamping, 'I belong to Noah Puckerman' on your backside."

Rachel ticks her eyes up and looks at the hat perched on her head and then back at Kurt. "Oh yeah? Why do you say that?"

Kurt laughs, links arms with her, and guides her through the automatic doors. "Because, _dear, _this is Tennessee, not Texas. The men around here are all more baseball caps versus cowboy hats. That is, almost all of them except for _your_ man and _his _Stetson." Kurt flicks the hat with his fingers and Rachel smiles, tugging it down tighter over her scalp. Looking at her out of the corner of her eyes, he smiles. "You're really into him, aren't you?"

Rachel shakes her head. She doesn't know Kurt that well but she feels like he could be an amazing friend if she let him. "I really am, Kurt. He's just… he's phenomenal."

Her voice is wistful and Kurt laughs in response. "You mean the sex, right? The man's reputation is legendary."

Rachel scowls and then grins again. "Not _just _the sex, although yes, that is incredible. It's that he's… He seems like a simple guy and he is but he just… he gets me. And I don't have to be anyone but who I _really _am around him and that's so refreshing. He doesn't want me to be the celebrity girlfriend and he never even really asks about that part of my life. He's just…"

"…so into you that we're all kind of surprised," Kurt says honestly.

The two arrive in the skin care aisle and Rachel's eyes travel over the products. "Why is it surprising, Kurt?"

"Honey, don't take this the wrong way but Puck? A total womanizer. Bedded three quarters of the women in this county. Women _want _him. Hell, I know a few men in my circle of friends that want him… But he's been with you for four months now and for Noah Puckerman? That's a four-month record."

Rachel beams at Kurt's words. Noah's told her a lot about his past and his relationship with the women in the county. He's a dangerously attractive man and he knows it and has always used it to his advantage. And it thrills her that he's willing to put that all to rest for her. _For her! _

She snags the most expensive bottle of moisturizer off the shelf and reads the contents. Satisfied that it's not made with tar or ground up baby turtles or something horrifying, she tosses it into her cart.

After she has what she came for, she and Kurt wander around the store, just talking as Kurt mocks the hideous clothing choices on display by the aisles. He also catches her up on how the salon is doing since it opened. She tells him about how her album will be coming out soon and she should be finding out the release date anytime. She stops short, though, when she sees a very large woman wandering down the aisle in a pair of blue spandex shorts and a pink halter top with acres and acres of flesh on display. Rachel shudders and Kurt just laughs. "That's Maude. She always comes in here dressed like that."

Shaking her head, Rachel stares after the woman. "Why in the world would _anyone _come out in public like that, Kurt? Does the poor woman have a complete lack of self-respect?"

Kurt links his arm through Rachel's again and puts his hand on the cart to propel it forward. "I have this theory, Rachel. People seem to forget that they're actually in public when they come to Walmart. I see people in curlers and in robes and sometimes there are arguments and family reunions and brawls. Hell, there's even been a wedding back in the bait and tackle section. This place is a microcosm for all the nuts of the world."

Rachel snorts and looks at him through her sunglasses. "Sounds like LA!"

Once Rachel heads over to the grocery section to snag Noah something for lunch (because she wants to surprise him at the garage), she and Kurt head through the checkout line. The pretty Asian cashier stops checking when she notices Rachel in her sunglasses and the Stetson. Her eyes zero in on the hat and she frowns before tearing her gaze away from the hat to glare right into Rachel's face. She doesn't speak at all while she checks Rachel out and when she hands her the change, she says, "Tell Puck that Tina said hello," and then turns away and begins taking care of the next customer. Rachel looks at her curiously before recognition dawns. _Tina!_ She was one of the two women who called for Noah that first night that she was at his house.

As they walk out of the store, Kurt chuckles. "See, Rachel? That hat! You just broke poor Tina's heart for good. She's had a thing for Puck for a while… I know he messed around with her once or twice but he dropped her like a hot potato when you came around."

Rachel's hand travels to the brim of the hat on her head and traces her fingers along the edge. She's definitely announcing that she's "Puck's girl" today, that's for sure.

…

"Morrison, you maybe wanna back the fuck away from my girlfriend?"

Rachel hears Puck's voice and lets out a little sigh of relief. The man standing in front of her has been flirting with her for what feels like forever, gravitating towards her almost as soon as she arrives in front of the open bays of the garage doors. He continues to use sad, pathetic pick-up lines on her until Puck finally makes his way towards to the bay door and sees Rachel standing there (in his hat and a pair of ridiculously large sunglasses.) He barks an order at the man who raises his hands, palms open, like he's surrendering. "Sorry, Puckerman. Didn't realize she was yours. You normally don't _do _girlfriends."

Puck's jaw clenches. "She's wearing my fucking Stetson. I think that's a pretty good indication that she's with me." Puck walks up to Rachel and slides his arm across her shoulders. Looking pointedly at the man, he says, "Get back to work, asshole."

The man disappears back inside the building with a smirk on his face and Puck's own features soften. He takes in Rachel's huge sunglasses and his hat. Tugging on the brim, he says, "You look cute."

Rachel smiles. "Thanks. I figured this was about as incognito as I was going to get. Kurt informed me, however, that wearing your hat is like having your name tattooed on my ass."

Puck cocks a brow and smirks at her like he approves of the idea before he tilts Rachel's head back so that he can kiss her. When he pulls away, he brushes his lips along her cheek and then she exclaims happily, "I brought you lunch!"

She hands the bag to him and he peers inside. "Chef salad! With ham and eggs? Oh, babe, you _do _care that I'll die without meat, don't you?"

He tugs her to him and kisses her again, whispering "thanks" against her lips. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees several guys standing near the edge of the garage, watching the show. Apparently Noah Puckerman with an actual girlfriend is something of a spectacle.

"We have an audience," she whispers.

Puck swivels his head around and glares. All the men scatter, suddenly very intent on working. When he looks back at Rachel, she smiles up at him. "I'm going to leave and let you get back to work. I'll see you at home, okay?"

He nods and watches her go. She shoots a sweet smile over her shoulder as she climbs into her car and he groans because she's so fucking sexy.

When he walks back inside the garage, all the men are ignoring him but he can tell they're watching out of the corner of his eye. Finally, Morrison speaks up. "So who is she, Puckerman? Women who look like _that_ and drive cars like _that_ sure as fuck don't live 'round here."

Puck stares at him and but ignores his question. When he doesn't answer, Jamie Jameson (a total prick with an unfortunate name), says, "Mary Ann said she heard that you had some mystery woman holed up with you at the farm. Word is that Santana Lopez is pretty pissed. I didn't believe it myself but hot _damn_, that little package that was just here? Fine as fuckin' _honey._"

His fists are now clenched and he's pretty sure he's going to have to bust someone in the face. He glares at each of the guys and then says, "Look, assholes. My life is _my _business. That woman? _My fucking business. _You don't need to know anything about her other than the fact that she's with me."

Jameson snorts and says, "Dude, we all know that you get more play than anyone else in this fucking town but _shit, _that woman seems too damn good for you. She's _classy. _She's driving a brand new Audi. She's got money. Who the hell is she? And more importantly, why the hell is she with a poor as fuck farmer-slash-mechanic like you?"

"None of your goddamned business, Jameson," Puck seethes.

"Well when you're bored with her, you mind if I give her a call?" Morrison pipes in from across the room.

Puck just rolls his eyes. "You'll be waitin' a long ass time, Morrison." Puck shifts his gaze back to Jameson and hits him with a stony glare. "That woman? Hopefully staying around for a while. And if you think she's too fucking good for _me_, she's a thousand goddamned leagues above your trailer trash level."

"A woman like that is going to be bored with you soon, Puckerman. Sure, you may be able to fuck her into next week but what the hell do you have to offer her other than a hard dick? You may try to hold on to her forever because she's sexy as hell and loaded…but she'll be done with you in no time…just wait and see," Jameson counters.

A quiet guy in the corner, realizing that the tension is bordering on explosive, interjects to ask, "So does that mean I can ask Tina out now? Last I knew, she was in your rotation, too."

Puck rolls his eyes. "Don't give a fuck about any woman other than the one you just saw. All the rest of them? Have at 'em." And with that, he stalks back over to the '98 Lumina he was working on and proceeds to ignore the men until they finally get back to work themselves.

_Fucking assholes._

Puck spends the rest of the day pissed off. For one, it's none of their fucking business _who _the mystery woman in his life is. And two, who the fuck're they to tell him that she's too good for him? Yeah, okay, so she is. He knows that. But they don't know one goddamn thing about Rachel and the woman she is. And they sure as hell don't know a thing about his relationship with her. Fuck them all.

...

As soon as Puck walks in the door, Rachel can tell that he's in a bad mood. He kisses her quickly and then excuses himself to wash the grease off in the shower. When he comes out, Rachel's curled up on the bed, flipping through a magazine. He leans against the doorframe and watches her for a moment. She really _is_ classy. And she's beyond gorgeous. For a moment, he does wonder why in the _fuck, _when she can have any man in the world, is she spending time slumming in Tennessee with him? A surge of emotions floods through him and he's angry all over again. He realizes that he's letting those motherfuckers at work affect his mood and it pisses him off further.

Puck walks into the bedroom and drops down next to Rachel. Grabbing the magazine, he tosses it to the floor and pushes her onto her back, quickly unbuttoning her shirt. She looks up at him with questioning eyes. "I need to fuck you," he tells her. Then he pushes her shirt open, yanks the cups of her bra down, and pinches her nipples while he looks into her big, brown eyes. "I'm _gonna _fuck you," he corrects himself.

Rachel lets out a moan because with him, it doesn't take much (barely anything, really) before she's as hungry and as needy as he is. And there's something in his eyes tonight. She can't quite place what it is but there's definitely _something _there. She quickly sits up to push her shirt off, then reaches around and unclasps her bra. Puck stares down at her shorts and panties, and reading the intense look in his eyes, she pushes those off, too. When she's naked, she lies flat on her back on the bed again and looks at him expectantly.

She watches as his eyes rake over her, his pupils darkening. She sees his jaw flex and then he's beside her on the bed. He locks his fingers in her hair and kisses her deeply, sucking her lower lip into his mouth until she moans. He palms her breasts, squeezing them, before dropping his head to suck a wet, red line along her collarbone.

Rachel's head lulls back. When he drops his head to her breasts, she hears him mutter, "so goddamned beautiful" against her skin and it makes her shiver. His tongue circles around her nipple and she hears him say, "and so fucking _mine_," before his lips surround the hard bud. He sucks on it hard, her back arching towards his mouth before he lets the nipple go with a resounding _pop_ and skates his lips across her chest to lave her other nipple. And then he drags the long point of his tongue down. Down, down, down. It circles around her navel, dipping inside briefly, and then down, down again, gliding over the wiry hair at the apex of her thighs and then he's _right there. _

Hooking his hands behind her knees, he pushes her legs up and open. When her knees are pushed level with her shoulders, he's satisfied and bends down to explore the gorgeous sight in front of him. She's trim, taut, tight, slick, and wet. And his tongue and fingers are _everywhere. _She can't even think with the all the powerful stimulations being lobbed at her. He's sucking her clit into his mouth and then his tongue is deep inside her and then his fingers are curling against her walls while his tongue is dragging across her thigh.

Her head is spinning with the intensity of it all. And it just _feels_ different from usual. With all the ways he's pleasured her and she's returned the favor, this just feels _different._ He seems like he's on a mission…like he's got something to prove.

When his tongue travels down her slit and swirls around her puckered rear opening, Rachel cries out and her fingers press into his scalp. He's never done _that_ to her before. Hell, no one ever has. But then he does it again and she moans approvingly. His tongue returns to that spot and he prods her just gently enough to elicit a loud grunt from her body before he glides his tongue back up her slit and it dances around her soaked opening, poking inside.

He pulls away and looks at her. "Whose pussy is this?" His voice is thick and gravelly and demanding and she knows, instantly, that he's claiming her. It sends chills of desire through her body. She answers, "yours," as she shudders. She's never had a man literally and figuratively _claim_ her before and that's exactly what he's doing.

"Damn right it is," he barks back. Then he bends his head again, sucks her clit into his mouth as he pistons two fingers inside her and she's _gone._

She's still shaking, still throbbing inside when he stands up and shoves his pants down around his thighs. He palms his cock, stroking it once, twice, three times. And then he pushes forward, dragging it up to the opening of her pussy to wet himself with her slickness. One more slide down and then back up to her clit before he's pushing inside her. His entry is smooth and quick but powerful and she bites her lip and sobs with satisfaction when he takes her.

Puck's hips show no mercy as he pounds into her. She locks her legs around his waist, holding on for dear life and giving into the pleasure of the intense coupling. His thighs are slamming into hers and she's arching her back, taking him deeper, rolling her hips, urging him on. She's pleading his name over and over again because she's too far gone to say anything else.

She needs this.

It needs to be fast.

She pushes herself upright, her legs still clasped around him, to kiss him and he darts his tongue inside her mouth just as his cock hits her g-spot for the first time. He captures the cry on her lips and then does it again and again, hitting that spot with every stroke, ratcheting up the bliss and the need each time, until she's grunting and her thighs are starting to shake.

"Fucking gonna come for me, aren't you, baby?" he rasps, his fingers gripping her thighs as his almost brutal thrusts continue.

Rachel nods, her eyes starting to roll back in her head. His finger finds her clit and rubs a few times until she starts to whimper.

Puck pulls her up by her shoulders and kisses her again. His lips are still on hers when he thrusts hard into her and murmurs, "Mine, Rachel…you're _mine,_ aren't you?"

Rachel groans and cries out, repeating "yes" to his question and then another barrage of yeses escapes from her swollen lips as the implication of his words sends her careening over the edge and towards the brilliant pinpoints of light. She comes loud and hard and only when her orgasm has nearly drained her does he finally let himself go rigid, swearing loudly as he pulses inside her.

He collapses against her, sweaty skin on sweaty skin, and kisses her softly right before he slides out, his fingers pushing the hair away from her face.

She looks into her eyes, notices that they're still dark with words unspoken, and says, "That was incredible. What was that about, anyway?"

Puck just shrugs. She knows there's no way he'll answer and he really doesn't have to say anything. Something obviously happened at the garage after she left today and brought this on. And really, she doesn't need to know. He needed to prove to himself, she knows, that she belongs to him. It almost makes her tear up because he should know without a doubt, by now, that she's his just as much as he's hers. Rachel pushes herself up, clasps his cheeks between her hands, and kisses him before saying, "You _know_ I'm yours, Noah."

She sees something flash in his eyes but she can't tell what it is and he certainly doesn't respond to her. Instead, she lets him kiss her again and press her back down into the sheets. They lay there for a few moments until she can hear that his breathing has evened out, signaling that he's fallen asleep. She turns on her side and looks at him. And then she smiles. She smiles so brightly that her face hurts and she wants to shout because she's finally admitted to herself something very important.

_I think he may love me._

Grinning because the whole world seems slightly brighter and more amazing with that realization, she forces herself to catch a nap, too.

…

After an early dinner and a lazy night in front of the television, Puck convinced her that they should turn in early. But later, she wakes up and realizes that she's in bed alone. Squinting through the darkness, she sees that the clock says 11:37pm.

Pushing out of bed, she pads down the hall and into the living room. The front door is open and she can hear the strains of a guitar coming in through the open screen door. She stands in the darkness of the room and listens as the melody drifts toward her. It's slow and haunting and beautiful and obvious that he's very much one with the guitar. He knows it well and he's mastered how to pull the most beautiful sounds from the strings.

She finally pushes open the screen door and he stops playing, looking up at her with a sheepish grin.

"That was beautiful," she says. "I've never heard it before."

"S'because it's something of mine."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Really? Noah, you should write that down."

He smiles at her and sets his guitar down on the porch, patting his knee for her. As she sits down, he slides his arms around her waist and tilts his head toward her. "I have written it down."

Rachel opens her mouth and then closes it before opening it again. "I would love to see your music, Noah. You keep it so private."

Puck laughs and shakes his head. "You're a huge star, babe. I'm a hill farmer from the fuckin' sticks… I don't think my music is going to be anything worth giving a damn about."

Rachel ponders his words because she thinks he's reflecting more about whatever happened earlier in the day than on his music. She shakes her head vigorously and says, "No, you're a rural man with an incredible talent for music, amongst many talents. I really would like to see your music sometime… That is, if you're ever comfortable enough to show me."

Puck nods and kisses her, his hands sliding inside her shirt to settle on the warm skin of her back.

"Are you okay?" she asks. She's worried about him. He seems so guarded and what happened between them earlier was nothing short of intense.

"I'm fine," he says automatically. His eyes travel to her lips and up to her eyes and then he winks at her. When he pushes her off his knee, gently smacks her on the ass, and tells her, "let's get back to bed," she realizes that he's not going to open up to her at all.

Puck flips off the porch light and locks the door behind them, following her back toward the bedroom in the dark. He knows she wants to talk about what's been bugging him today but he can't really find a way to talk about it. He can tell that she'd find a way to fix whatever it is that's bothering him if she could.

He watches her stand on the side of the bed in the moonlight and pull her clothing from her body until she's totally nude. Her breasts are bathed in the silvery light and a lot of her body is cast in shadow but she's beautiful, like a screen capture from an old black and white skin flick. Then she crawls across the bed so that she's on her knees in front of him, pushes his boxers to the ground, and takes his cock into her hand. She lifts her eyes toward his as she strokes him and then closes her mouth around the flesh. He groans and his last thought, before he gives into pleasure, is that she's right where she _wants_ to be and that she's not going anywhere. With that understanding, he finally lets himself fucking relax and give into the feeling of her amazing mouth.

* * *

When Rachel walks into her house in LA, the first thing she notices is that it seems cold. There's really not much carpeting and the walls are all a utilitarian white color. It's just not very…homey. She's found that she quite likes the décor of the little farmhouse back in Tennessee and now, when she's in the home she paid $3.2 million dollars for three years ago, she's a little bit homesick.

Not long after she's back, the calls start. Agent. Then manager. Then agent again. Then manager again. The volley of calls goes on and on and she's weary and irritated when they finally stop. But the positive news is that the release date of her album has been confirmed for six weeks from now. And in that time, she's going to be doing television appearances in LA and New York City. But they're spread out just enough that she's not sure when she's going to be able to make it back to Tennessee before the launch of her album.

As she's crawling into her oversized bed that night, she calls Puck. He answers on the third ring and she's unbelievably relieved to hear his voice. "I miss you already," she tells him as soon as he answers.

He laughs into the phone and then says, "I miss you, too."

She leans back into her pillows and closes her eyes. "What did you do this afternoon?"

"Took Bessie out for a ride. Checking fences and checking on the crops in the back fields. You?"

"I was on calls all day." She pauses for a moment and then asks, "Noah, when I get back there, will you teach me how to ride a horse?"

She can practically see him beaming into the phone when he says, "Hell yeah, babe. 'Bout time you learned anyway."

"That sounds wonderful," she says as she sinks further into the blankets. His voice is comforting and relaxes her. She just wishes that he was by her side.

"I called because I have bad news," she finally admits after a few seconds.

"Oh?" is all he says in response.

"My album comes out in six weeks and I have to do appearances in New York for a few weeks and then out here. And then there's a huge launch party for the album. So I'm not going to be able to make it back there until _after _the album comes out."

She hears him say, "Oh," again and she can hear that he's disappointed. Quickly, she asks, "Will you come out to LA? I'd love to have you here. I think it would make everything better."

Puck hesitates and she frowns. "Please?" she asks in a begging voice.

She hears him laugh and then sigh. "I'll have to get Finn and the guys to help out with the horses and stuff while I'm gone."

"So you'll come?" Her voice is hopeful.

"When do you want me there?"

A few minutes later, he hangs up the phone. He's a little shocked that he's agreed to go to Los Angeles. He snorts into the empty room and stares down at his phone before dropping it on the bedside table. Only a woman could make him go to that insane city.

Correction, _only _one woman could.

Only Rachel.

He smiles as he flips off the lights and slides beneath the blankets. He's never felt this way about a woman. He's sure as fuck never abandoned his farm and his job for a few weeks for a woman. But this woman? She's making him do crazy shit right and left.

And he fucking loves it.

**

* * *

Author's Note**: So Puck's on his way to LA next and I think we're getting closer to some verbal confirmation of obvious feelings!


	6. Part 6

Rachel finds herself staring toward her master bathroom with a huge smile on her face at the sound of Puck singing in the shower. She can't believe that he's here, in her house. They haven't seen each other in nearly a month and she misses him so much when he's not around. It actually scares her _how _much she misses him. She's never felt this way about any man before. She's terrified of identifying how she feels with an actual word but even though she has yet to say it, she knows what she's feeling. And now he's here and even though it's only for ten days, she's going to take advantage of every possible moment they have together.

He arrived earlier in the day and after she gave him a tour of the house (he was impressed with her basement gym), she had her chef prepare them a nice, healthful meal of salad (for her) and a steak for him (even though it pained her to bring red meat into her house.) They drank a little bit of wine, he got her caught up on all that was going on in Celina (not much), and then asked if he could shower because he felt "grungy as fuck from the flight."

Now he's belting out something that sounds like Mellencamp in her marble-tiled master bathroom. And she's so happy about that fact that she can't wipe the grin off her face. She spies his suitcase, lying open and with a few articles of clothing strewn over the edge, in the corner and she walks over and leans down to look inside. Rachel lets out a laugh when she sees his Stetson lying in the bottom. Of course he wouldn't leave that at home. It's part of him. She runs her fingers across the top of the hat and then finds herself rifling through his clothing. Everything smells like him and it's a smell that she missed when it was absent. Hell, she craves it at times. She sees one of his white dress shirts and pulls it out, holding it to her nose and inhaling the smell of laundry soap (and, she thinks, a touch of that Tennessee well water she's become so used to.) She darts her eyes around the room and lets out a laugh, relieved that no one is here to see her come completely undone just by inhaling the familiar scent of the man she…cares very much about. She holds the shirt up and eyes it appreciatively. Before she even realizes what she's doing, she's undressing.

After a long, hot shower, Puck runs a towel over his head and then wraps it around his waist and pads back into Rachel's bedroom. He nearly stumbles over his feet when he sees Rachel, though. She's leaning back on the plush organic cotton spread covering her bed, her body propped up on her elbows, and she's wearing nothing but his hat and an unbuttoned shirt (wait… that's _his _shirt, too.) His heart thumps wildly in his chest as his eyes drag over her body and up to her smiling face and it's then that he _knows_. He knows _exactly _how he feels about this woman. Two thousand miles from his home and as far out of his comfort zone as he can possibly be, he still feels exactly at home and he realizes that it's because of this _one_ woman. He missed her like hell when she wasn't around and now that he's standing in her crisp, modern bedroom while she's wearing nothing but _his_ shirt and _his_ Stetson that he accepts the fact this woman _owns _him. And it feels fucking fantastic, if not a little overwhelming.

"I missed you," Rachel says softly, her eyes travelling over the water droplets clinging to the hairs on his chest. She lets her gaze drop to the thin line of hair that runs down the middle of his abdomen, below his bellybutton, and disappears into the towel cinched around him. "I missed you more than you can possibly know."

Puck admits, "I missed you, too, babe," before grinning lecherously at her and undoing the towel, sending it to the floor.

He advances towards the bed quickly and practically leaps on her. She shrieks with laughter but it quickly dies on her lips and is replaced by small moans as he pushes the shirt off her shoulders. He takes her mouth like he's a suffering, starving man and she replies in kind. She wriggles against him and her hand reaches up to remove his hat from her head but he stops her, pulling his lips away, and shakes his head. "Nope, Rach, leave it on."

And with his girlfriend still wearing his Stetson and straddling him like the farm girl he thinks she just might _really _be, he receives the best possible California welcome.

* * *

Puck loves waking up to the smell of Rachel's hair. She's on her stomach, her arm flung across his chest, and she's sleeping soundly. He struggled with sleep all night because the noise was more than he was used to. Even though she's in a gated community and the neighborhood itself is relatively quiet, he can still hear the booming bass of car stereos, dogs barking, and the general sounds of urban life. Coming from a place that's so quiet he can hear a cow moo from a quarter mile away, this takes some adjustment. Looking over at the clock by the bed, he sees that it's just before 7am. That means it's nearly 10am back at home and there's no way he would ever sleep that late normally. He blames it on travel exhaustion and the fact that Rachel and he had quite the physical reunion the night before (and into the morning hours.)

Puck grins as he closes his eyes and tucks his arm around her. She stirs and opens her eyes, smiling at him through sleepy eyes.

"Morning, baby," she says softly.

"Mornin' yourself. You sleep okay?"

Rachel stretches and nods. "I forget how much I miss your blanket stealing and bed hogging until my bed is empty."

Puck tips his head and kisses her before saying, "And I forgot just how much I miss the way you flip and flop all fucking night until I want to strangle your hot ass. I haven't been kicked in the legs in weeks!"

Grinning, Rachel tucks her head against his chest and skates her hand down his abdomen, settling it low on his stomach. "I have to be heading out for interviews in two hours. I'm doing one of those stupid affiliate interviews where I sit there and people from different news stations all over the country take their turns at asking me the same questions over and over again." She lifts her head and looks at him. "You can go with me if you want. Or you can stay here and relax."

Puck shifts them and slides her beneath him. "I think I'll stay around here today. Check out the digs a little more…see what kinda dump you're living in."

Rachel lets out a little laugh and then gets a serious look on her face. "I can't believe you're here in California. I'm making my manager rearrange my schedule so that I have a few open days to show you around. Anything in particular you'd like to see?"

Thinking for a moment, Puck finally answers. "The ocean, mainly. And that big stupid Hollywood sign. Kurt made me promise I'd take a picture of it. Oh, and he expects souvenir from Rodeo Drive."

Rachel grins. "How about I just shove one of my hundreds of unused scarves in a bag and you take that back to him. He'll never know the difference."

Puck stares down into her sparkling eyes and smiles. "Sounds like a plan to me, babe." He dips his head to kiss her and then they're soon swept up in each other all over again.

He's in the middle of showing his girlfriend _exactly _how much he missed her (again) when he pauses, mid-thrust, because he hears a noise outside her bedroom door. Rachel shakes her head, grabs his ass and digs her nails in, urging him to continue. "It's just the housekeeper. She won't come in with the door closed."

Puck's not sure he believes her so he works fast, rubs her in just the right way, and sends her quickly over the edge, groaning his name loudly as she goes. When he's finally stopped pulsing, he slides out of her and rolls over, staring at the ceiling. "Your housekeeper knows you just got fucked. Shit, babe, that was loud."

Rachel blushes and shrugs. "Oh well… I pay her handsomely for her complete discretion. This is no different." Throwing the covers back, Rachel climbs out of bed. Looking over her shoulder, she announces that she's going to go take a shower. She pauses just long enough that Puck knows she wants him to follow so he quickly jumps out of bed and runs after her. He snags her around the waist and lifts her up onto the marble vanity. Minutes later, he's pressing her legs up toward her chest, pulling her ass to the edge of the cold marble, and is pushing himself deep inside her again. Even as she's keening his name and begging him to go faster, he knows that she's going to be very, _very _late for her appointments.

She finally leaves the house nearly an hour after she planned to. She kisses Puck and darts out the door and toward the car waiting in the driveway. He watches her go then closes the door and helps himself to her kitchen. After finding virtually nothing that he actually wants to eat, he chokes down some organic flax and sunflower seed cereal covered in soy milk and passes back out on her bed. He hasn't had time to just _be _in forever. He's always got fields and animals and crops and cars and tractors to deal with. Besides, she has the biggest fucking bed he's ever seen in his life and it's way more comfortable than his is. As far as first impressions go, California rocks.

* * *

That positive impression of sunny LA lasts twenty-four hours. By the time they finally make it through ridiculous Los Angeles traffic for dinner at one of Rachel's favorite restaurants, Puck's not sure how anyone lives here without taking out a gun and shooting at everyone and everything in sight. And once the waiter sets the tiny plate in front of him with the single smallest portion of baked chicken that he's ever seen on top what looks like about seven spaghetti noodles, he's pretty sure that LA sucks ass.

Rachel watches Puck stare at his plate and then giggles. When he looks up, she says, "It's not the portion sizes you're used to, no."

Puck scoffs. "Babe…this is, like, a single spoonful of pasta. Like, one spoon full! What the fuck am I gonna do when this is all gone in two and a half minutes and I have to order more?"

Rachel takes a bite of her vegan pasta dish and shakes her head. "Order more I suppose. I don't want you leaving hungry. Besides, this is on the house anyway! I never seem to have to pay for dinner."

When they leave the restaurant an hour later, Puck's stomach is still growling. They step outside the restaurant and suddenly, flash bulbs illuminate them. He quickly looks at Rachel and she says, "Someone from the restaurant must have tipped off the press. The paps love me. Come on." She grabs Puck's hand and pushes through the crowd of photographers towards the car waiting by the curb. As they move, Puck hears the photographers shouting questions at her that she pointedly ignores. The driver pulls open the door and she slides in quickly, tugging Puck in after her. The door slams soundly and then she exhales. She looks up at Puck, worrying her lower lip with her teeth, and then sighs. "Welcome to my life."

Puck's honestly stunned. He hadn't expected an onslaught of photographers because, _fuck_, they were just at dinner. Why does anyone care where she eats? As the car weaves through traffic and back towards her house, Puck realizes for the very first time that he is honestly dating a celebrity. He knew it before, of course, but having twenty-two cameras in his face and a barrage of questions being shot at them makes it all very real. He knows instantly that he hates those camera guys and that he's going to have to control himself so that he doesn't cause bad press for Rachel.

And it's fucking surreal that he has to watch what he does so that his girlfriend doesn't get _bad press. _Gossip down at The Dairy Dish, he's used to. Showing up on _E! News_? Not so much.

* * *

On Wednesday, Puck finally gets a close-up view of the Pacific Ocean. Rachel announces to Puck that she's taken the day off and then she throws on the skimpiest bikini he's ever seen and tells him that she's taking him to the beach. When they get there, the crowd is thin. Rachel has her trademark huge sunglasses on again and her hair is piled in a bun on top of her head. She's wearing a big, floppy sun hat that Puck thinks looks slightly ridiculous.

"That hat is fuckin' ugly," he tells her after they've spread out their towels. He takes it off her and tosses it into the sand before peeling his shirt over his head and staring out at the inviting waves before glancing back toward her. "You comin' in?" he asks.

Rachel has now made herself at home on top the plush towels and is flipping through a stack of magazines she's brought with her. She looks over her sunglasses at him and shakes her head. "Nope. You enjoy. I'll be right here."

He looks at her for a second longer (because her tits look seriously amazing in that tiny scrap of green fabric) and then he practically runs and dives into the waves. He tries not to act like a child as he experiences the ocean for the first time but he totally can't help it. The salty, foamy water and the sound of water birds are totally foreign to him and he loves it. But then he feels something swim by and brush past his body and he's out of the water as fast as his strong legs will carry him because he's not about to be stung by a jelly fish or eaten by Jaws or attacked by an electric eel or have one of those teeny, tiny fish swim up his pee hole. (What? He watches Discovery Channel and he's _seen _this shit. It's horrifying.)

Soaking wet, he drops down into the sand and places his hand on the base of Rachel's head so that he can kiss her. She moans into his kiss and when she pulls away, she tells him, "You taste like salt water."

Puck smiles at her, his eyes glinting, and licks a stripe across her shoulder. "You taste like sunscreen."

She bends to kiss him again but shrieks into his mouth when he picks her up. He tosses her sunglasses down and then carrying her bridal-style, he dashes towards the ocean. She's screeching when they both go under the water but she's laughing when they surface for air. The waves separate them but when she catches up to him again, she flings her arms around his shoulders and meets his eyes. He's smiling but she sees something deep and very serious in those eyes that are currently appearing to be more green than hazel.

He kisses her softly as a wave crashes against their calves and then slings an arm around her. Turning back toward the beach, they both quickly stiffen because there are now four photographers stationed nearby and he realizes that their fun beach outing has been ruined by the bloodsucking paparazzi again. They dash quickly to their towels, gather up their things, and head toward her car as a half-dozen cameras click after them.

Scowling, Puck glares when a short, thin man with a camera gets within a foot of him. "Back the fuck off," he grouses at the man, who holds his arm out to indicate that he's going to let Puck pass. But as he's climbing into the car and pulling the door closed, a flash goes off from outside the window. Rachel backs away quickly and they head back toward the safety of her gated community.

California fuckin' sucks.

* * *

The next few days fly by. Rachel goes for interviews and Puck either tags along or stays at her house and relaxes. He manages to take that picture of the stupid Hollywood sign after Kurt texts him three different times to remind him and he even spends $5 at a gas station to buy a few magnets that say "LA" on them. He's a simple guy and if everybody back home wants some souvenirs from California, they need to come here on their own fucking time and get them.

Each evening, Rachel and Puck go to a restaurant and he gets to eat just enough food to take the edge off his hunger. He understands now why his girl weighs about 100 pounds and is generally tiny. _She's starving_. Okay, so maybe he has no proof that she's starving other than the fact that _he's_ starving. In fact, she looks totally satisfied and full when they leave the restaurant and the cameras are shoved in their faces again. He, however, sees a Denny's and nearly hijacks the limo because he's so hungry for a Moons Over My Hammy sandwich that he thinks he's probably gonna die.

It's on a Thursday night that Rachel's slipping into a sexy purple dress that he just wants to peel back down her body when he finally snaps. "Babe, can we stay in tonight and maybe order some pizza?"

Rachel seems almost shocked at his request because she rarely eats dinners at home. She has a chef that comes in to cook two dinners a week and the rest of the time, she's on the go. She has more dinner meetings than she can count and it's also the time she uses to meet up with her friends. She stares at Puck and sees the pleading in his eyes. Then she shakes her head and slips back out of her dress, hanging it back on the hanger. Puck slips behind her, lets his hands roam over her bare breasts, and whispers, "thank you…I really don't wanna fuckin' deal with the cameras tonight. And I want some real food." She realizes that she's used to never-ending presence of the cameras but has forgotten that _he's _not. No wonder he doesn't want to go out. She's about to turn and ask him what he wants on his pizza when she feels him drop to his knees behind her and slide her panties down her hips and towards the floor. She's still in her heels but he carefully helps her step out of the tiny scrap of lace before he pushes her forward, bending her over the bed. He presses his lips against the swell of her hip and sucks hard, leaving a red mark in his wake. When he pushes her thighs apart and licks a stripe from one end of her slit to the other, she grips the organic cotton of the bedspread so tightly that she's afraid her fingers will shred the material.

Puck's a man with a serious goal in mind, she can tell. He tongues her until she comes in a heated blaze and then he pulls her hips back, grips them tightly, and slides his cock inside her quickly. She knows that there will be no leisurely making love as they've done so often since he arrived. She knows him well enough to know that when he can't even take the time to let her crawl all the way into the bed, he's in the mood to _fuck. _And fuck, he does. He does it hard and fast, whispering some of the filthiest (and hottest) things she's ever heard in her ear until she lets out a guttural cry and collapses onto her face on the bed, her muscles milking him. Seconds later, he empties himself inside her and then slumps on top of her to catch his breath. When his heart rate slows down, he pulls out, kisses her sweat-slickened shoulder as he slaps her on the ass, and asks her where they should order the pizza from.

When he's shoveling piece after piece of meaty, disgusting looking pizza down his throat and groaning the exact same way he does when she's going down on him, she can't help but laugh. He looks so insanely happy to be eating "real man's food" as he'd called it earlier. She's eating a vegetable casserole that he chef left for her and is trying to ignore the vile smell of pepperoni that is quickly permeating her entire house. And even though she's disgusted by his dietary choices, she's so glad to spend and evening in with him. It reminds her of being back in Tennessee. Those quiet evenings on the farm, sometimes interrupted when his (their) friends come over, are things she's come to value. And it's only once he's in California that she can fully admit that she loves that little farm.

And she loves him, too.

* * *

Rachel can't believe she's already going back on _Good Day LA _but her agent insisted that she go since the album is dropping in just two weeks. So on Friday morning, she's back on the set. This time, she has Puck go with her, though, and he stands back in the shadows during her interview. But when they cut to commercial and she takes off her microphone as she tells Steve and Dorothy goodbye, she sees Jillian zero in on Puck and she knows that she's not going to escape this without some bit of prying on Jillian's part.

"So is this the guy?" Jillian asks Rachel as she steps up to Puck.

"It is," Rachel answers, a grin on her face.

Jillian introduces herself and Puck shakes her hand. "It's nice to meet you. We've been speculating about Rachel's boyfriend for a while now. Are you trying to break into acting?" She's appraising him as he stands there and he smirks because he's noticed since he's been here that appearances are everything and despite the fact that he seems to think he looks like a yokel from the sticks, Rachel keeps assuring him that he fits in just fine.

Before Puck can answer Jillian's question, Rachel interjects pleasantly, "You're not getting any information about him, Jillian, so don't even try. And we need to be leaving." She gives Jillian a quick kiss on the cheek and grabs Puck's hand just as the director is hollering for Jillian to get her ass back on set.

Rachel and Puck are leaving the studio when they hear Jillian tell the camera, "I just met Rachel Berry's boyfriend, everyone. He's a hottie!"

Puck groans and Rachel laughs as they step out into the sunlight.

* * *

The longer he's in LA, the more Puck decides that he's practically in another world. By the time it's Tuesday evening, the last night of his visit, he's realized a few things. Rachel's still the amazing woman that he can't imagine living without but here, she's just…different. Back in Tennessee, she's the big, shiny fish in a small pond full of dumpy, poor little weak fish. Here in LA, she's a big, shiny fish in a well-manicured, exotic pond full of other big fish, some that are bigger and some that are smaller, but all that are very shiny and with diamond-studded gills. Translation: his girl is the _shit_ in this town and it's really fucking weird.

He thinks back to the night before last. They were at another one of those restaurants she loves eating another tiny meal consisting of probably 335 calories worth of food. Halfway through dinner, they were interrupted by a young girl, probably no more than 12, who shyly asked Rachel for her autograph. Rachel, ever the gracious woman, happily put down her fork and signed the notebook the girl has offered to her. Apparently, the bold move by the child set off a wave and Rachel spent the next ten minutes signing autographs and pleasantly chatting with a few fans before resuming her dinner. Puck was floored as he watched it happened but Rachel acted like it was no big deal at all. And when they left the restaurant, they were again bombarded with camera flashes and paparazzi shouting questions at her as they made their way toward her car.

When they're in public, she's still Rachel. She doesn't change, he knows this. But everyone wants a piece of her and realizing that he shares this woman with the world is taking some serious mental adjustment. But he loves when she walks in the door of her stately home, kicks her heels off, unpins her hair, washes the make-up from her face, and then wraps her arms around his neck and smiles shyly up at him. That's the girl he… _Fuck it, _he's just going to admit it. That's the girl he loves.

He loves the other Rachel, too, of course. But when she's just _his _Rachel, he thinks he loves her so much that it scares him. And that's why now, at that moment, he's rifling through one of the bags he brought with him, looking for the present he's been holding on to since he left Tennessee. He knows that giving her this gift is like baring his soul but he thinks, after just five months of being with this incredible, tornado of a woman that it's worth it.

She's curled up in bed when he finally snags what he's looking for and stands up. She's just gotten off the phone with her manager and he can tell that she's tired. She's lying against the pillows, her fingers messing with the collar on her shirt, as she watches him. "What's that?" she asks, pointing at the package in his hand.

Puck doesn't answer her. He climbs into the bed next to her and drops the package into her lap without a word. She looks at him curiously before glancing down at the flat package now lying across her thighs. Picking it up, she opens the manila envelope and slides the contents out. She drops the envelope carelessly as her eyes widen at what's in her hands. And then she turns to look at him and he knows that she _knows. _With absolute certainty, she knows. He sees tears spring to her eyes and then she's looking back at what's in her hands. She's flipping through the small stack of papers with a look of awe on her face. Her eyes settle on one particular sheet of paper and she sets the rest down to focus on just that one. She reads it, again and again, and then she looks up at him.

"This is beautiful, Noah." She glances back down at the notes and the words in front of him and then back up. "I'm serious, this is amazing."

Puck feels himself redden because this is a huge deal for him. He never shares his music with anyone. Sure, he jams with the guys and he's played in a few clubs here or there but it's always covers of everybody else's shit. He's never let anyone see the songs he's written before. And he never imagined, when he started writing music years ago, that the first person he'd allow to see them would be a famous pop star. But he loves her…and it's time she _knows_ that he loves her.

He sees her eyes filling with tears as she stares at the sheet in front of her and then she looks back at him. "I want to record this song," she says. She thinks she's going to have a fight on her hands but he shakes his head instead.

"I want you to," he admits. Then he looks into her eyes, focuses all his energy on her, and says, "I wrote that one for you, actually." He shifts uneasily and looks at her because he's so uncomfortable right then and he has no idea what she's going to say.

There's an awkward silence and he starts to get nervous but then she carefully sets his music aside, climbs into his lap, and looks at him through her lashes. "I love you, too," she says. He's never seen her look so serious and he'd almost want to laugh if this wasn't such a huge fucking monumental moment. But then she kisses him hard, pulling back to whisper against his lips, "I think I've loved you from the very beginning," and he forgets about his music and about her being famous and about all those tiny plates of food and all those annoying assholes with the cameras. And when he twists her beneath him on the bed and pushes her shirt up far enough to bare her breasts to his ravenous gaze, he realizes that he can deal with all of the bullshit that her lifestyle comes with because it also comes with _her. _And she's worth a lifetime of 300-calorie meals.

It's only later, when she's collapsed onto his chest and her body is still trembling because he'd pushed her higher and higher until she'd shattered that he finally whispers those three little words into her hair. He feels her press a gentle kiss against his bare chest and then she whispers, "I know," before she falls asleep.

* * *

Rachel tells herself all morning that she's not going to cry. She's left Noah to go back to California many times since they got together. But this is the first time _he's _left _her. _She has her premiere party next week and she would have loved for him to stay to attend but she knows that 10 days away from the farm is pushing it enough. And as soon as the party is over, she's catching a red-eye flight back to Nashville for a much-needed break.

She has an interview to do so she can't go to the airport with him. Instead, she clings to him in the driveway of her home and tries to hide her face when a few tears leak from her eyes and onto his shirt. He tilts her head up and shakes his. "Why are you crying, babe? I'll see you next week."

"I know," she sighs. "Things just feel…different now." After last night, everything seems so much different.

"Really fuckin intense," he says with a nod.

She laughs and pushes up on her toes to place her mouth on his. When they part, she says, "Have a safe flight. And call me when you get in."

He picks up his bags and hands them to the waiting driver, who quickly packs them in the trunk. Right before he slides into the backseat of the car, he pulls her to him and kisses her like he's not going to see her again for a week. When they part, she whispers, "I love you, baby," as he walks away.

He turns and winks at her and quickly bumps the spot on his chest over his heart with his fist before the door closes and the car pulls away. She's laughing as she watches him leave because his grasp of verbal emotional expression leaves a lot to be desired. But she knows he loves her and it doesn't matter if he says it or writes it in a song or only nods when she says it to him because he still feels it and he makes her feel it in a thousand different ways and that's what really matters.

* * *

Puck's flight back to Tennessee is completely uneventful. His first class seat is just as comfortable going as it was coming so he relaxes and concentrates on all the shit he brought to read. When he gets to the airport, he gets his bags from the baggage claim and soon he's in his truck on the drive back to Celina. Things are nice and quiet and it feels good to be back in his home state, even if he does miss Rachel already. He's as relieved as hell, though, that she'll be back in Tennessee next week. He needs his girl back on his home turf.

However, his quiet, serene drive goes to shit exactly a half-mile from his driveway. The narrow dirt road is crowded with cars and, as he gets closer to his house, he sees several news trucks with their transmitters up and pointed towards the sky.

He can barely turn his truck into his driveway because of the crowd and as he does, he's blinded by the flashes of what seems like a hundred flashbulbs. When he pulls up in front of his house and parks, he sees Finn standing on the porch.

"Dude! What the fuck?" Puck barks as he jumps from the driver's seat.

Finn shrugs. "They started pouring in two days ago and they've been trying to get on the property. I actually found one asshole with a camera hiding in an empty horse stall. Broke his camera and tossed him out on his fat ass and then called the sheriff. He's normally useless but he's got his chest all puffed up and he's out there patrolling to keep all these people off your land."

Puck stares back at the throng of cars and news trucks lining the road and then back at Finn, a perplexed look on his face. "But what the hell are they doing here?"

Finn smiles and snags a stack of magazines off the chair by the door and hands them to Puck. He flips through them, reads the headlines, and his eyes bulge.

_Pop sensation Rachel Berry photographed with mystery beau_

_Who's the handsome man on Rachel's arm?_

_Rachel Berry in romantic beach romp with muscled mystery man_

_Has Rachel Berry found true love at last?_

_Rachel's new love is a country boy!_

Puck looks at the headlines and the pictures of himself and Rachel and recognizes them from their various jaunts while he was in LA. Lifting his eyes towards Finn, Puck groans. "Ahh, _shit_..." Sure, he knew he was photographed a thousand fucking times while he was in LA but he really never thought about what they'd _do _with those pictures once they had them. And he sure as fuck never thought he'd end up on the cover of a bunch of shitty gossip magazines. It only takes a second for him to realize that his girlfriend's crazy life in LA and his quiet life in Celina have now collided and have created a giant ball of shit that he isn't sure what to do with.

Finn laughs at the nearly tragic look on his best friend's face. "Looks like the whole world knows, dude. And you thought you'd keep this thing a secret."

Puck shakes his head and stares down at his image plastered across the front of _Star _Magazine. He's seriously not prepared to handle this shit. When he looks up at Finn again, he asks, "So what the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** And now their lives are intertwining more and more... Next chapter, Hollywood meets Celina!


	7. Part 7

Puck quickly learns that the paparazzi hanging out on his dusty dirt road are far more resourceful and bloodthirsty than the ones in California. Once Finn gets tired of listening to him bitch, he heads home and as his big pickup truck makes it to the end of the road, it's swarmed by the fuckers with cameras. Finn guns it, fishtails, and sends dust and rocks flying up everywhere but the flurry of activity caused by the fact that atruck driven by someone that isn't even _him_ makes Puck pretty convinced that the media isn't going away anytime soon. So he stands on his porch and shoots shitty glares there way while he tries to decide what the fuck, exactly, he's gonna do about all this. He'd love to go inside, grab his rifle, and shoot it into the air to scare the fuck out of all the assholes waiting to snap a picture of him. But he realizes all too rapidly that if he follows his gut, he _will_ succeed in scaring the piss outta those West Coast wimps but he'll also wind up back on the cover of the National Enquirer with some assholish headline like: _Rachel Berry's boyfriend is gun-toting psycho, _and while that would actually be pretty cool and would totally be something he could frame and hang up over his fireplace, he doesn't want to bring that kind of attention to himself for Rachel's sake.

_Shit_. The things he _doesn't_ do for love.

So after he heads inside, he listens to 10 days worth of voicemail messages ("Noah, this is your mother. Where are you?" and "Noah, it's your mom. You still haven't called me back!" and "Noah Puckerman, where in the hell are you? You call your mother right this second or I will break your legs!" and the final one, "Noah Puckerman! You are on the cover of _Us Weekly_. You better call me right now or I will snap you like a twig, you hear me, boy?") Deleting the messages and decidedly _not _calling his mother back, Puck heads into the kitchen to fix himself some dinner. His stomach is fucking growling and airplane food leaves a lot to be desired. He's halfway through scrambling his eggs (what? He's a simple guy) and is looking out the small window over the sink that faces the barns when he sees some skinny little nerd with a huge camera creepin' along _his property_ like he's some expert sleuth. Puck immediately wants to open the window and chuck some dishes at him but instead, he just watches until the man skulks closer and closer to the house. When the douche is about ten feet away and is lookin' all shifty-eyed, Puck's prepared to run outside and scare the shit out of him but his cell phone chooses that moment to ring.

Fishing it from his pocket and seeing that it's Rachel, he answers. "Hey, baby, what's up?"

"Hello, Noah. Did you have a safe trip back?" Rachel's voice sounds like she misses him and he likes it. A lot.

"Yup," Puck says, pushing open the back door. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the asshole crouch down and hide behind a wheel barrel like he's some kinda fucking ninja. "Had a little trouble since I've been home, though."

Rachel sounds worried when she asks, "Why? Is something wrong?"

Puck grins and starts to talk so loud that he's afraid Rachel will think he's yelling at her. "Nothing I can't handle, babe. Just a bunch of bloodthirsty photographers hanging out at the end of my driveway trying to snap some photos. Oh, and there's one dumb little fuck hiding behind a wheel barrel at the moment but I'm about to fill his ass fulla buckshot." Like a jack-in-the-box, the photographer pops up from behind the wheel barrel and stumbles backwards. Pulling the phone away from his ear, Puck yells, "Get the fuck off my property, asshole!" When he turns his attention back toward Rachel, she's laughing but sounds apologetic.

"I feel horrible, Noah. All this attention is my fault. I wanted you out here so badly I really just didn't think if the ramifications of what would happen once you got here. I'm so sorry that they're causing you trouble." She sounds so terribly sad that Puck almost feels bad for _her _even though he's the one currently under the microscope.

Puck leans his back against the house as he watches the photographer sprint off into the distance. "Nah, I'll be okay, baby, don't worry."

"Just ignore them," Rachel advises. "If you don't give them anything to take pictures of, they eventually leave. I'm sure it will be fine."

Puck sighs loudly and says, "You're right, I'm sure."

The two discuss Rachel's upcoming premiere party and the busy week ahead before she announces, "Oh great, my agent's here, probably with another last-minute appearance for me to go to." She groans into the phone and adds, "I guess I have to go now…but I love you."

Puck grins into the phone. He could get used to hearing her say that. With a "Yeah, same here," he hangs up his phone and heads back inside to the stomach-turning smell of scorched eggs.

* * *

But Rachel's wrong about them going away, Puck soon realizes. The next morning, after a fitful nigh because he was positive that he could hear those button-pushing motherfuckers staked out up on the road, he decides he's going to go into the garage and get back to work. Maybe if the photographers see that he's just a boring guy with a boring life when Rachel's not around, they'll leave him the fuck alone. Besides, if the whole world knows who his girlfriend is, that means the guys at the garage do, too. And now, he feels like being a little bit smug after the way they acted the month before and he wants nothing more than to rub their ugly, not-dating-a-celebrity faces in it.

His plan is thwarted, though, as soon as he gets to the end of the driveway. His truck is swarmed by the bloodsuckers, flashes are going off, people are darting around the front of the truck, and he can't even get out onto the goddamned road. Pissed, he throws his truck in reverse and careens back down the driveway and vaults from the truck as soon as it's parked.

Puck is so furious that he wants to break something. What do these people think they're going to accomplish? And really, how fucking interesting _is_ he? He drives a big truck and works in a garage and owns a farm. If it weren't for that one small detail that he's banging (and in love with) a pop star, no one would have any idea who the fuck he is. He wishes he could figure out a way to get back to the _old _way, and fast.

After he drops his hands to his hips and glares at the bloodsuckers out on the road, he quickly calls the garage and tells them that he's not going to be in today. Then he heads out to the barn, saddles up Bessie, and disappears into the fields and pastures behind his farm. There's privacy back there, at least.

He's been in the saddle for 45 minutes when his phone rings in the pocket of his short-sleeved button-up shirt. He sees the name on the screen and groans out several choice expletives before slowing Bessie down a trot and answering, "Hello, Ma."

Down in Asheville, Maggie immediately launches into a rant. "I cannot believe you, Noah! I simply cannot believe you. Is it true?"

"I take it you've seen the magazines?"

Maggie snorts, "Imagine my mortification when I'm standing in the checkout line, having a casual conversation with Miriam Lipschitz because her poor Walter is suffering from raging hemorrhoids that keep him up at nights but _anyway_, I happen to glance to my left and what do my eyeballs land but a picture of on my son, practically naked and wet on a beach with a girl in his arms! _My son! _On the cover of _Us Weekly_, no less! Noah, how could you keep this from me?"

"Because you have a big fuckin' mouth, Ma," Puck spits out. "Because I knew if I told you, this shit woulda blew wide open long before now."

Maggie _tuts _into the phone and asks, "Well, this girl…this Rachel girl, is she a nice girl?"

"Of course she is, Ma. She's awesome. You'd love her," Puck smiles as he thinks of Rachel out in California because he knows his mother would go apeshit over her.

"Do _you _love her?" Maggie asks.

Puck doesn't hesitate. "Yeah, Ma, I do. A lot, actually."

He's pretty sure he can practically hear his mother beaming with pride into the phone. And then says the dreaded words that he's been waiting for since the phone call started, "She has a Jewish nose, Noah. A _very_ Jewish nose. So Jewish, in fact, that I'm surprised she hasn't used some of her millions to get that schnoz fixed. Please tells me that she's Jewish? It would be simply incredible if she was."

Puck heaves a sigh. "She has a great nose, Ma. Shut up about her nose. And not that we're observant Jews or anything, Ma, but yes, she is Jewish."

Maggie lets out a squeal and wistfully says, "I need to call your aunt. She _must _know about this."

"She already knows," Puck says with confidence. "Aunt Anna _loves _tabloids. I'm sure she's all over that shit."

"Well, just the same. This is _huge_. I expect to meet Rachel, Noah, and soon. You let me know when she's in Tennessee and I'll drive up to meet her. The future mother of my grandchildren needs to know me, now doesn't she?"

Puck rolls his eyes so hard that his brain hurts. Fuck that noise. No way is his mother meeting his girl for at least… ten or twelve more years.

"We're not giving you any grandchildren. Look, I gotta go." Pick bids is mother goodbye and hangs up the phone, shoving it back in his pants pocket. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head toward the sky. Even from way out in the fields, he swears he can hear the sound voices from those photo-taking up on the road. Angered all over again, he pushes Bessie deeper into the thicket to try to find a little bit of peace from the madness that had descended on his life.

…

Later that day, Puck puts Bessie back in her stall, brushes her out, and then heads up to the house to get a quick shower and decide what to have for dinner. As soon as he steps the back door, he hears knocking on the front. Thinking that it's Finn or Matt, he yanks open the door only to be greeted with a camera flash to the face.

"Mr. Puckerman, can you tell us about your relationship with Rachel? Is it love? Are you two getting married?"

Without jerking the camera from the man's face, Puck slams the door closed again and throws the deadbolt.

Shit is fucking _insane_.

* * *

It goes on for days and days. They mill around at the edge of his property and make it nearly impossible for him to even get out to go anywhere. Four days after getting home, he's so desperate to get the fuck outta his house that he calls Kurt and begs him to come on a rescue mission in his big black Escalade. Kurt parks around the back of the house, Puck crawls in the back and hides, and Kurt heads back out through the thick of idiots, smiling and waving at the cameras like he's just been crowned Mister America.

Once they're three miles from his house, Puck sits up in the back seat and slaps Kurt on the shoulder. "Thanks, man… You don't know how much I needed to get the fuck outta that house."

Kurt shrugs. "Not a problem. Just put in a good word with your girlfriend for me."

Puck rolls his eyes. Kurt's hero-worship of Rachel would be downright fucking scary if he didn't know the guy so well.

"So where am I taking you, Puck?"

"Uh… take me to Shipley's… I need a beer."

Minutes later, Kurt drops Puck in front of the town bar and says, "I'll be back to take you home in 90 minutes." As he's shutting the door, Kurt adds, "Don't get trashed!"

Puck gives him the finger and disappears inside the bar. He nods at the few patrons inside at that time a day and plops down in front of the bartender, Eddie.

"Yo, Puck," Eddie says, "I hear there's some shit goin' on out at your house?"

Puck snorts and says, "Fuck, dude… Budweiser please…and keep 'em comin'. I'm going crazy out there."

Eddie pulls the spigot and fills up the mug and then drops it in front of Puck, bracing his hands on the bar. "So's it true? That singer girl really your woman?"

Puck takes a swig of the beer and smirks. "Yup."

Eddie shakes his head and Puck watches the few wispy hairs on the top of his head dance around in the breeze. "Fuck, man… Dunno how you do it. First you bang all the hot chicks around here and then when you're done, you move on to celebrities." Eddie snorts and then looks at Puck, "She got a sister?"

Puck barks out a laugh and takes another sip of beer. "Only child, man, sorry. Besides, she can be a little intense." Looking at Eddie over the top of his mug, he asks, "Wouldn't Delores be pretty pissed if you replaced her anyway?"

With a snort, Eddie shakes his head. "She'd chop my balls off, man. Not like I'm gonna leave her. Been with her for 32 years. But still… I envy you, man."

Eddie steps away to help another patron and Puck finishes off his beer. He's about to order another one when he sees a stranger skulk into the bar, his eyes shifting nervously. Puck recognizes him as a reporter immediately. Dude just _smells_ like a soulless fuckhead. Stiffening, he shoves his Stetson down close over his eyes and tosses some bills on the counter. With a nod to Eddie, Puck slips down the edge of the bar, through the storage room, and out the back door. He's not fuckin' ready to deal with this shit yet.

* * *

By the time Rachel's premiere party rolls around and she's ready to head back to Tennessee, she's a nervous wreck. Puck is furious with the complete violation of privacy and she feels terrible because, if she hadn't begged him to come to California, none of this would be happening to him. She also finds that worrying about what's going on in Tennessee is distracting her from focusing on her album release.

But soon, it's the night of her premiere party and so she's sitting in a chair in her house while her stylist and her hair and makeup person argue over "the look" she should go for that evening. She longingly glances over at her suitcase, which is packed for her late night flight after the party, because she knows that there are jeans inside and nothing sounds better than wearing jeans for a night on the town. But alas, ten minutes later she's slipping into a blue Alexander McQueen dress and a pair of black stilettos. Once her hair is piled on top of her head and her make-up is done, she's led out to a limo and she knows that she's _on. _

When she climbs out of the car in front of the Coco de Ville, she smiles at the cameras, waves to fans, poses for a few pictures, and signs a lot of autographs before she's whisked inside. The small, brightly colored club has been decorated with huge headshots from her album photo shoot and she knows that she's about to have to spend the next three hours smiling.

As expected, the party is packed. She catches up with Paris (who's actually not as horrible as everyone thinks), talks shit about Perez with Kelly, and happily gives Justin a hug. But before too long, a few of her guests start to ask her about her "cowboy," how the hell she found him, and how they can get themselves a man like him. Rachel laughs and shakes her head, telling the inquirers that "there's really not much to discuss, honestly. He's a wonderful, private guy."

She finds herself staring at the clock, feeling antsier and antsier the closer it gets to her departure time. But then it's time for her to perform and she's up on the stage, the spotlight illuminating her, and she forgets about everything except giving the best performance she can. The applause afterward tells her that she's done a perfect job and she beams. When a notoriously harsh critic from _Rolling Stone_ tells her that this album might just be the best of her six, Rachel feels her heart flutter. And then she finds herself thinking about the upcoming flight to Tennessee and being back with Noah and her heart flutters yet again. As she turns to sign a copy of the album for a critic from the _LA Times, _she admits to herself that she is officially conflicted. She's living two completely separate lives and they're both fulfilling.

* * *

Puck knows that Rachel has arrived before he ever sees her car. Because it's the dark hours of the early morning and he's sitting in his living room with the door open, he sees the flashing of cameras first. So he stands up and goes to the porch and watches as a huge, black SUV pulls into his driveway followed closely behind Rachel's car. He's as relieved as shit that she's there but by the number of flashes out on the road, he's pretty sure they're going to be headline news tomorrow.

He's off the porch and into the driveway, his arms around Rachel, as soon as she's out of her car. She kisses him quickly and then turns toward the two men that Puck has just noticed are standing behind her. "Noah, this is Jim and Terrell. They're with the security detail that I usually use for events. Under the circumstances, I thought it might be nice to have them here until things die down."

Puck nods at Rachel and sizes up the two guys. They're both fuckin' _huge. _Like, Schwarzenegger before he got old and got into politics and started to look like he was melting _huge. _Seriously, one of them has a bicep the size of Puck's head. "Do I offer 'em the guest room or something?" Puck looks at Rachel. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do with security.

Rachel laughs. "No, silly. They'll make themselves at home and sleep in shifts. They're here to protect us, not rest and relax. That's why _I'm _here."

Puck sweeps Rachel into his arms and notices that the flashing up on the road starts going off again. Glowering, he lets Rachel go, grabs her suitcase, and quickly pulls her toward the house.

"Goodnight, gentleman!" Rachel calls to the two guards before Puck tugs her inside and slams the door closed.

Once inside, Rachel sighs and drops down onto the couch. "Never, ever let me spend six weeks straight in California again, okay?"

Puck drops down next to her and pulls her into his lap, his nose nuzzling against her neck. _Fuck_, he missed her smell. "Was it rough?"

Rachel nods. "Interviews and performances and parties and schmoozing and I'm just so tired. I'm so glad to be home…I could sleep for days."

Puck grins at her choice of words to describe his house. He's not even sure she realizes that she said it because she just closes her eyes and drops her head against his shoulder. He can't help but be slightly amazed that his celebrity girlfriend considers his piss-ant little farmhouse home. It both terrifies him and makes him indescribably happy.

Nudging her off his lap, he says, "C'mon, baby, let's get you in bed." He ticks up his eyebrow and Rachel groans because she knows that by "getting her in bed", he actually means, "fuck you 'til you forget who won the Grammy for Best Pop Artist last year" (her), and it sends a thrill through her.

She watches as he shuts off the lights and walks back over toward her. When he grabs her hand, she grins and smiles into the darkness. She missed the way his house smells because the whole place smells like him.

With very little prompting, she makes a beeline for his bedroom, practically dragging him behind her. With a resounding slam of the door, she officially makes herself at home in his life and in his arms again.

* * *

The next morning, Puck wakes Rachel up by dragging his nails down her bare back. She purrs and arches like a cat, turning her head to peer at him through her unruly, fucked-half-the-night and then slept-on hair. "Morning, baby."

Puck grins and rolls her over, tipping her head back to kiss her. When he pulls away, he says, "Gotta piss but don't move, okay? Stay in bed. I'll be right back. Got nowhere to be today but between those thighs."

Rachel groans at his tacky cheesiness but then smiles as she watches his naked body retreat across the hall and into the bedroom. She never gets tired of watching him go (and come.) His backside is _spectacular. _

Stretching, she lets out a huge yawn and then reaches around to fluff up the pillows. She hears Puck walk out of the bathroom and then pad down the hall. Seconds later, he's standing in the bedroom door staring at her with a look of confusion on his handsome face. "Babe, you gotta come see this." He's _so_ serious and she's suddenly so concerned that she shoots out of bed and follows after him naked. She can only _imagine _what the reporters are doing out there now.

Except for when she peers out the window, she sees that there are only two cars up at the end of the driveway and only two people with cameras milling around. _Two_.

Puck and Rachel look at one another and then he asks, "The fuck happened to 'em all? Not that I'm complaining but still…last night, there were, like, 40 of 'em, all with wide-angle lenses pointed at the house."

Rachel shakes her head as she says, "I have no idea! I can't imagine what's going on."

Thinking quickly, she darts back to the bedroom and grabs her phone. Quickly dialing her agent, she ignores the complaining that it's only 8am in California and says, "Donna, why are there only two paps waiting outside? How'd you call them off?"

Puck watches as Rachel nods her head a few times before a huge smile breaks out across her face and she meets his eyes. By the time she hangs up, she's practically bouncing with glee.

"What?"

She snags him around the waist and presses herself against him, tipping her head to peer up at him.

"So apparently, there is something much more interesting happening out in Hollywood and they all left to go cover that instead. _Some things _are more important that who Rachel Berry is dating!"

Puck stares at Rachel, waiting for her to elaborate. She just bites her lip and grins at him. "What, babe? What happened?"

Rachel lets out a laugh and says, "You're familiar with Jackson Strong, right?"

Puck nods. Of course he's familiar with Jackson Strong. He's only one of the hugest action stars in Hollywood. Puck thinks he's a BAMF and loves his movies. His last movie had tons of blood and gore and enough naked babes to fill up a strip club. (And the movie included a brief girl-on-girl scene that Puck still has filed away for occasional use when Rachel's out of town.) The whole movie was short on plot but long on death, destruction, and silicone-filled tits and was, therefore, pretty fuckin' bitchin'.

"Okay, well…early this morning, Jackson was found handcuffed to a bed in this seedy hotel in Simi Valley."

Puck's face breaks out into a grin. "Oh yeah?"

Rachel bounces up on her toes and says, "And the best part? He was in full drag at the time! Wig, make-up, lingerie…the whole nine yards!"

Puck starts laughing until his face hurts and then he asks, "So they all headed back to Hollywood to cover that?"

Rachel scoffs but smiles. "Of course! Huge, exceptionally manly action star found dressed in drag, handcuffed to a hotel bed while his dutiful and loving wife is waiting at home with their three children? _Huge _scandal!"

Sweeping Rachel tightly into his arms, he backs her towards his bedroom. "So they don't care about your hick boyfriend anymore, do they?"

Rachel giggles and reaches up to kiss him. "Noah Puckerman, you are officially uninteresting."

Puck lets out a heavy sigh. "Thank fuck, baby…they were drivin' me nuts."

Pushing Rachel back onto the bed, he crawled in next to her. "The last two that are here will probably stick around for a while, though, Noah. We're not going to be totally free of them."

Her face is serious and he can tell that it still worries her. He shakes his head and kisses her before pulling back. "Naw, baby, we'll be fine. Two assholes, I can handle. Besides, you still got Viper and Thor out there, right?"

Rachel giggles and says, "Yes, the security guards are still there, although that's not their names."

"Like I care," he breezes.

After he rolls her beneath him, she kisses him and sighs. With all those cameras gone, she feels like she can breathe again because she knows that he's relieved. In fact, it makes everything better.

* * *

Rachel grins out the window as they head into town. The big, black SUV is tailing them and she knows it's her security people so she allows herself to relax, despite the fact that the two remaining paparazzi will be tailing them, too. She's about to enjoy an evening in the quiet town of Celina with her boyfriend. No more hiding. No more disguises unless she wants them.

Her fingers find their way to the brim of her hat and she lets out a little laugh. Puck, his own Stetson perched on his head, turns toward her and grins.

"Looks good on you," he appraises.

Rachel ticks her eyebrows up at him. "I love it, Noah! You don't even understand how much I love it." Before they'd left the house, Puck announced that he had a present for Rachel before disappearing into his bedroom. When he came back out, in his hand was a brand new, _pink_ Stetson just for her. She'd squealed and kissed him before dropping it on her head. She officially loved it.

Puck looks down at her jeans and laughs. "If you weren't wearing a pair of $600 jeans, I'd almost say you fit in around here."

Pulling a ponytail holder out of her pocket, Rachel loops it around her hair at the base of her neck and then turns toward him, smiling brightly. "Baby steps, Noah… baby steps."

Throwing his head back and laughing, he grabs her hand and squeezes her fingers before pulling the truck into a parking space in front of Fannie Fay's Cafe. The SUV parks next to them and Viper and Thor climb out and stand watch as Puck helps Rachel from the truck. He slings his arm across her shoulders and guides her through the doors of the café, her two security guards following on their heels.

The quiet murmur that had filled the restaurant screeches to a halt when the pair enters. All eyes turned toward them, forks suspended halfway to open mouths, as the patrons gape at the two of them. But before they can spend too much time caring that they're a spectacle, they hear, "Rachel! Puck! Over here!"

Toward the back of the restaurant, there are three tables shoved together and waiting for them is Kurt, Mercedes, Finn, Brittany, Mike, Quinn, Will, and Artie. Rachel grins when she sees them and bolts towards their corner, soon pulled into a heavy hug by Kurt. When he pulls back, he says, "Girl, I'm loving the Stetson."

Rachel beams and runs her fingertips across the brim of the hat. "Noah gave it to me this morning."

Kurt grins at Puck who just shrugs and pulls out a chair so that Rachel can sit down. Dropping down into the seat next to her, he hands her a menu.

Rachel peruses the menu and then realizes that activity in the restaurant has gone back to normal. People are talking and eating again and, other than a few stray eyeballs glancing in her direction, no one seems to be pay attention to the fact that she's there. Maybe it's because she is in a small town where her privacy is more respected or maybe it is because there are two huge, burly guys sitting at the end of the table discussing how bloody they like their steaks. Whatever the reason, Rachel relaxes into her chair and leans her head against the arm Puck has slung across the back of the seat. She rolls her head toward his face and meets his eyes. He grins at her, winks, and then looks back down at his menu. Quinn quickly pulls her into a conversation about her premiere party and soon the whole table is laughing and telling stories, getting caught up one each other's lives. It's only then, when Puck has his hand on her knee and is whispering in her ear the explicit things he's going to do her later while Kurt pretends that he's offended yet is listening harder than anyone else, that Rachel decides that being normal, that having real friends and a real boyfriend and no cameras around, makes her feel _just_ as alive as standing on a stage in front of thousands of screaming fans. She's not sure what that means in the grand scheme of things but when Puck steals one of her French fries, she decides to stop thinking about everything else and just focus on the here and now.

* * *

**Next up**: Rachel buys Puck a gift and has an encounter with Santana.


	8. Part 8

As the next few weeks pass, Rachel learns a few things. First, she finds out that her new album is a huge hit. It debuts to positively stellar reviews and shoots to number one on iTunes and on the Billboard chart. Thanks to the success, the offers for more appearances and performances start rolling in. As the time for harvesting crops settles over the Tennessee valley that Puck calls home, Rachel is jetting from LA, where she appears on Ryan Seacrest's radio show, to New York City, where she performs a concert for _Good Morning America _and _VH1 Unplugged. _She's overwhelmed by the positive reviews and the claims that this is her best album yet. One review that ends with the line, "Rachel Berry gives me faith again that pop music hasn't totally gone to Hell" makes her tear up. Puck tries to tell her that the reviewer is a prick but Rachel assures him that, coming from this guy, it's a huge endorsement. She's proud of this album but her wheels are already turning for the next one because in her possessions are some new songs by a very fresh and amazing songwriter that she just happens to be in love with.

Her career is stronger than ever.

* * *

The second thing she learns is that during harvesting in early October, she rarely sees Noah. By the time she wakes up in the morning, he's long gone. Other than a pot of coffee warming for her in the kitchen, there's no sign of him except for the droning of farm machinery off in the distance. He's out in the fields until late, coming in dirty and exhausted and definitely not in the mood to do much talking. She knows the whole thing is temporary and that she, of all people, shouldn't be complaining about his schedule because she has an insanely busy life but when she's at the farm and he's not around, she _misses _him. She wanders around the house and takes care of her business, conducts phone interviews, talks to her manager, and handles what she can of her career from the confines of his small but comfortable home. But the whole house smells like him and she knows he's nearby and sometimes, she thinks she _hungers _for his presence. If she didn't already know that she loved him, her reaction would scare her. And then when she hears him pull open the door to the mudroom at the end of the day, a thrill shoots through her because he's home. And he's tired and a bit surly so they both eat something quickly before he drags her into the shower with him (because, according to him, their mutual shower-turned-wet sex "kills two birds with one stone") and then he falls into bed and they both repeat the day all over again. But before harvesting is even done, Rachel's gone again, back to LA for a _Glamour_ magazine photo shoot and interview. She can't wait until everything slows down slightly, even if it's only for a few days.

* * *

Her third lesson is that riding a horse is really, _really_ hard. Once she has a few days off and Puck's finally got all the crops taken in and sent out for processing and sale, there's a lot of downtime on the farm. Remembering Rachel's request to learn how to ride a horse, he saddles up Bessie for himself and Lula, an older, gentler horse, for Rachel. He helps Rachel onto the back of the horse (and gets in a good grope of her ass) and then slowly leads Lula out of the barn with Rachel clinging to the animal for dear life.

By the time they've made it to the pasture, Rachel has pretty much had an emotional breakdown. She's convinced that either the horse is going to bolt with her on it or that the saddle is going to slide off and send her plummeting to the ground, where she'll crack her head open and bleed out in the middle of the Tennessee dirt. She voices these concerns, of course, and Puck ends up laughing hysterically. Her shrill, piercing scream of indignation at Noah's lack of concern for her only serves to freak Lula out and then Bessie gets annoyed because she hates all human females anyway and then the entire thing turns into a huge fucking disaster in a blink of an eye.

"Stop laughing at me!" Rachel shrieks even as Puck is wiping tears from his eyes. She's slid off the horse and is standing a few feet away from the animal, glaring at it while it casually chomps on some hay.

"I'm not laughing at you, babe, I'm totally laughing _with_ you!" Puck says, his palms open in surrender as he tries to weakly defend himself.

Rachel stomps her foot, balling her fists. "Which would be perfectly fine except for the very obvious fact that I'm _not laughing._ Noah! That horse was trying to kill me!"

Puck slides down off Bessie and ties her to the fence. He then grabs Lula's halter and ties her up, too, before putting his hands on Rachel's shoulders and squeezing reassuringly. "Baby, Lula can tell that you're freaked out and then it just freaks her the fuck out. Horses are very perceptible animals. They know when they're got someone on their back that's green. And you, babe, are as green as they fucking get!"

Rachel slumps and shoots another glare at the horse. She sees Bessie watching her out of the corner of her eye and she would almost laugh if she weren't sure the two animals were silently conspiring against her. "I just want to learn to ride so that we can go riding together. I know how much you love it," Rachel says sadly.

Puck grins and tugs her against him, sliding his hands into her hair to cup the back of her head and tilt her face towards him. "S'ok, Rach. I'll teach you and we'll go slow." His eyes dart over to Bessie and then back over to Rachel. "How 'bout you climb on behind me and we'll lead Lula back to the barn. Then we'll try it another day?"

Rachel nods, her eyes big. "That sounds better, Noah. I don't think I'm quite ready to ride on my own."

Puck shakes his head as he lets go of Rachel and leads her over to Bessie. He climbs up into the saddle and reaches his hand down for Rachel. Bessie turns and glares at Rachel as Puck hoists her up behind him. Then he urges Bessie to move and they trot over to Lula, where he bends down and unties her lead before they head off towards the barn. Rachel's fingers are digging into Puck's abs through his shirt and he wants to laugh because he can feel the fear vibrating through her body. But he likes the way she feels against his back and so he keeps his mouth shut and slows the horses down so that it takes them longer to get back to the barn.

Once they're finally back inside the dark, shadowy horse barn, Puck helps Rachel down and then he brushes Bessie before putting her back in her stall. Rachel grabs Puck's hand once he's finished and looks up at him, her face serious when she says, "I'm sorry I'm so bad at riding, Noah."

She sees the look in his eyes and the smirk that overtakes his lips and she quickly clamps her hand over his mouth before he can say something lewd. Puck shoves her hand away, laughs, and then tugs her toward the house. He'll stick to letting her ride the Puckerone for now.

* * *

Her fourth major lesson is that Puck, along with Finn, _really, really _loves tractors. She knows he does, obviously, because he treats his newest John Deere like it's his own child. It's evident that he really loves that stupid thing (Rachel fails to see the attraction.) But it's during dinner one night, when she's invited Finn and Brittany over, that she sees exactly _how _much he really loves those ugly, loud machines.

Once dinner is done and the four of them are sitting around the table enjoying strawberry shortcake with vegan whipped cream, Puck says, "Finn, d'ya see that 1946 Farmall they have up at Cooper's?"

Rachel interjects. "Cooper's?"

Brittany sighs and stabs a strawberry with her fork. "Cooper's. They sell farmer porn."

Rachel stares at Brittany, confused as images of naked farmers frolicking with pitchforks run through her brain, when both Puck and Finn groan in protest. "Farmer porn?" Rachel asks, a smile twitching the corner of her lips.

"Yeah, you know… tractors, combines, balers? It's the equipment store where the boys get all their toys. Just listen to 'em talk and you'll see why I call it farmer porn. Plus the guys all gather up there on Saturday mornings and stand around, drinking coffee and talking about this tractor and that plow like it's a beautiful woman and not a smelly, loud piece of crap that tears up the ground."

Rachel chokes back a laugh as Puck rolls his eyes and turns back toward Finn, asking, "Anyway, did ya see it?"

Finn pushes his chair away from the table and slides his legs out in front of him, crossing his feet at the ankle and his arms against his chest. "Hell yeah, I saw it. That thing is _sweet. _Fully fucking restored and in practically mint condition. Would love to have that."

Puck nods. "S'fucking nice. Too bad it's so damn expensive."

"Had I not bought the boat and already pissed Britt off, I'd find a way to get that, too."

"Can you imagine how smooth that baby probably drives?" Puck speculates, his eyes toward the ceiling with a look on his face that, until now, Rachel's only seen _in the bedroom_.

Rachel feels Brittany kick her foot under the table and she pulls her eyes away from her boyfriend. When she and Brittany lock gazes, Brittany mouths "_see?" _And as Finn and Puck drone on about throttles and torque and proper lubrication, Rachel realizes that "farmer porn" is truly an apt term. She stifles her giggles until Brittany finally bursts out laughing. Puck and Finn both glower because these women are seriously ignorant of the all-important male bonding time but before Puck can say something smart, Rachel slides her hand across his lap, settling it over the zipper of his jeans. She rubs her palm over his crotch and he stops talking, eyes wide as he looks down into his lap at her hand.

Quirking his eyebrow up at her, Rachel laughs and pulls her hand away. "Just checking to see _how _excited you are."

Brittany lets out a snort and Finn turns a deep shade of red and suddenly becomes exceptionally interested in studying the wood grain of the table. Puck just leans back in his chair and throws his arm around Rachel's shoulder and goes right back to talk about horsepower. And the glint in Puck's eye sparks an idea in Rachel's head. Before they leave for the evening, Rachel drags Brittany outside to whisper the details of her plan. And the next morning, she makes a call.

* * *

Rachel's fifth lesson is that Puck is _full _of surprises and that, just when she thinks she has him figured out, she realizes that she doesn't. Despite the fact that Rachel's car is a more environmentally sound choice than Puck's big, rumbling truck, he still insists that he drives it when they go to Nashville at the end of October. Rachel's manager has flown in and they're meeting with a tour promoter to discuss the tour that will start in early February. Rehearsals will need to begin relatively soon, the set design will need to be figured out, back-up dancers will need to be hired (even though she has two spots reserved for Brittany and Mike, even if they don't know it yet), and the set list will have to be settled upon. Rachel's done five previous tours and she knows how exhausting they can be.

When they arrive in Nashville, they're two hour early for her meeting so they grab some lunch at a tiny bistro downtown and then Rachel suggests that they stop by her apartment since she hasn't been there in months. It's only a short walk from the restaurant and is in a building that sits near the banks of the Cumberland River.

Her apartment building is pretty nondescript as far as Puck can tell. It looks like a converted warehouse and he's pretty surprised that Rachel would take up residence in such a place. But then she opens the door to her apartment and flips on the light and Puck totally understands. It's far more opulent than even her home is out in LA but it's also… cold. The walls of the living room are white, the carpet is white, and the drapes are white. The black furniture is a stark contrast to the wintery white of the rest of the main room. It doesn't fit Rachel at _all. _She's warm and caring and hot and passionate and this apartment is just dull.

Rachel's already darted into the bedroom and is rooting through her closet when Puck makes his way towards the sound of hangers banging against one another.

"This place doesn't fit you at all, babe," Puck says, his eyes settling on the maroon comforter of the brown and maroon-hued room. "It's… _shit_, babe, this place is like a museum. I thought your house in Cali was upscale but this is off the charts."

Rachel sighs as she jerks a few dresses from their hangers and tosses them on the bed. "I've never really liked this place, honestly. It's always just been an alternative to a hotel when I'm in town."

"So sell it," Puck says casually.

Rachel pulls a few more dresses off their hangers as the pounding of her heart makes it hard to hear. She finds herself nervous about what she's about to say but she barrels ahead anyway because…well…that's her style. Turning toward Puck, she tosses a dress down on the bed and says, "But I need a home base in Tennessee since I'm here sometimes."

Puck's brow furrows and he leans back on the plus mattress, supporting his weight with his hands. "The fuck you think my house is? It's not a fucking vacation home, that's for sure. You're there all the time, babe. When was the last time you stayed overnight in this place?"

Rachel thinks for a moment and answers, "The week after I first met you, actually."

"See!" Puck says, raising his hand for emphasis. "You're never even here. Sell the place and…" He looks up at her and his voice drops an octave when he says, "…and move in with me."

"Are you serious, Noah?" Rachel's pretty sure she's going to start shaking because this is the last thing she expected. They've only been together six months but he's right, she's _never _here. She doesn't even miss this place and never considered it home. But Noah's house? It's small and cramped and old. But it's also full of light and love and it _feels_ like home.

"Shit, yeah, I'm serious. Pack this shit up, sell this dump, and move in with me. You're splitting time anyway and why pretend you're coming back to this place when you're not?" Puck pushes off the bed and walks up to Rachel, his hand rising to push the hair from her face. "I'm not trying to force you or anything… It's just a suggestion."

Rachel nods and feels herself tear up at the sincerity she sees in his eyes (and it doesn't even bother her that he referred to her apartment as a dump.) This man never ceases to amaze her. His outward appearance speaks of simplicity and strength but she knows from his music and his emotions and his heart that he is so, so much more. She finally bobs her head and says, "I'll think about it…and thank you for the offer."

Puck just shakes his head and kisses her because honestly, he can't believe he just suggested it. He's never had a woman live with him. In fact, a year ago, the same idea would have sent a cold, deathly chill down his spine. But he knows that deep down, this thing with Rachel is unique for the both of them. He's never felt this way about a woman and Rachel's one of those chicks who carries her heart in her eyes so he knows that she feels the same way. And it won't be any different than things are now, anyway. When she's in Tennessee, she's in his bed. It's been that way for months and he doesn't see it changing anytime soon because he knows that they're both _in _this thing for the long haul. So yeah, she should just share her time between his farm and her house in LA. It's not a big deal, right?

* * *

The sixth lesson Rachel learns is that Puck's ex-girlfriend, if she can even call her that, is a total bitch. Her Thursday starts off normally enough. Puck's going to the garage for half a day of work and Rachel decides that she's in dire need of a facial and a manicure so she heads into Celina to try out Kurt and Mercedes' salon, which opened up just two weeks before.

There are a few patrons when Rachel steps inside but they're respectful and don't both her. Since the paparazzi first descended on Celina and then left thanks to bigger and more interesting news, the town has gotten used to "Noah Puckerman's famous girlfriend." She sticks close to Puck's friends but for the most part, she can really be herself while she's in Celina. She doesn't go anywhere totally alone and Kurt has designated himself as her personal bodyguard whenever she needs it. Rachel doesn't have the heart to tell him that he would probably be the most ineffective bodyguard in history because she loves his friendship so much. So instead, she just nods anytime Kurt reminds her that he's "got her back."

"So you're finally going to have one of my famous facials, huh?" Kurt asks, a smile on his lips. Rachel grins and slides her jacket and her Stetson off her head and drops them into a chair with her purse. She waves across the room to Mercedes, who is carrying a load of towels as she heads into the massage room.

"I think I need one, Kurt," Rachel sighs dramatically.

Kurt steps away from his current customer and scrutinizes Rachel's face closely, his eyes zeroing in on her pores. Shaking his head, he agrees, "You're right, Rach. Those pores are screaming for release. Have a seat and I'll be with you momentarily."

Kurt goes back to his customer and Rachel flops down in a chair, grabbing the newest issue of _Us Weekly. _There's yet another article about Jackson Strong and his big scandal and Rachel finds herself giggling again. She feels bad for him, of course, because she hates when any celebrity is subjected to some of the same miserable attacks she's dealt with during the course of her career. But in Jackson's case, she can't help but be a little bit thankful because it took the heat off her relationship with Noah.

She's in the middle of a "shocking" story about Kelly Ripa (that she clearly knows is false because she just spoke to Kelly a few days before) when the salon door opens and Kurt mutters, "Oh, shit."

Rachel ticks her eyes up over the top of the magazine and finds herself staring at a tall, gorgeous, bronze-skinned woman with long, black hair and beautiful eyes. And the woman is glaring at Rachel like she wants to claw her eyes out.

"Santana, can I help you?" Kurt asks coldly.

_Santana. _Rachel knows who she is instantly and tenses because this woman has fixed her steely gaze on Rachel.

"Need a haircut, Kurt," Santana barks her eyes not leaving Rachel.

"Um…" Kurt's eyes dart from Santana to Rachel and back again and he finally says, "Okay, have a seat. I think Mercedes will be free in a few minutes."

Santana walks across the floor, he heels clicking against the tile, and she drops into the seat across from Rachel. Rachel, in turn, quickly resumes reading the salacious story about Kelly and the room goes silent for three heartbeats before she hears, "So how's Puck?"

Rachel closes the magazine and drops it into her lap before she folds her hands primly over the top of it and smiles at Santana. "He's wonderful, thank you."

Santana stares at her, the dark pupils of her eyes giving nothing away, and then she says, "Can't believe you've stayed around this long. I mean, I know the man is fucking amazing in the bedroom but seriously, what do you see in him? He's a fucking farmer in the goddamn middle of nowhere."

Rachel's pleasant smile turns to a glare. "Noah is a wonderful, gifted man, Santana. He's much more than you give him credit for." She doesn't want to speak to this woman _at all _but she can't help herself. She feels like Santana is a crouching tiger that's about to pounce and Rachel refuses to let herself be bested by a small town harlot.

"So how much money is he bleeding you out of?" Santana is now bouncing her leg, her heel tap, tap, tapping against the floor, and Rachel can see there's fire in her eyes. She's trying to find a way to _push _Rachel.

Rachel just smiles. "Noah and I don't share money. We've discussed it because that's what people in committed relationships do, of course…but honestly, I don't see how that's any of your damn business."

Santana pushes herself from the chair and moves to stand in front of Rachel, crossing her arms as she glares down at the smaller woman. "Do you honestly think he'll stay around? Puck is a slut. He's fucked his way through this entire county. How he found you, I'll never know…but I can assure you, he _always_ comes back to me. He has since we were sixteen years old and had sex underneath the bleachers for the first time."

Rachel's a little shocked at Santana's openness about her sexual past but none of the few patrons in the building, as well as Mercedes and Kurt, seems the least bit shocked. But now Rachel just feels annoyed and wants this sad, jealous woman to go away so she stands up and takes a step toward Santana. "Well, that may have been the case _before. _But you see, I'm different from you, Santana. I'm the kind of woman that makes a man like Noah _want_ to settle down. You may have been a fun little plaything for a while but that's over now. So I'd suggest you suck it up, go buy some more slutty clothes, and go trolling at the bar because Noah Puckerman? Permanently _off _the market."

The irises of Santana's eyes turn nearly black before she lunges. Her fingers are splayed and she's aiming right for Rachel's hair but Kurt gets there first, blocking Santana's path. "Santana, I believe you need to head on down to the Clip and Curl to get your weave trimmed because we don't need your business here," Kurt barks briskly, his arms outspread in a protective stance.

Santana's mouth falls open and she shoots a hateful glare at Kurt. "You fucking serious, Kurt? You're kicking me _out_?"

Kurt shakes his head vigorously. "I don't handle you insulting my friends very well and I _sure as hell _don't handle you assaulting my friends and Rachel is very much my friend. And she's Puck's _girlfriend, _which is more than I could ever say for you. I know that you're a miserable bitch and that's fine but honestly, we don't cater to miserable bitches _here._ So _get_!" Kurt's voice gets shrill as he motions toward the door. Santana stands, completely shocked, for long enough to suck in a breath and compose herself before she turns to grab her purse and dramatically storm out, swearing as she goes.

When she's gone, Kurt moves away from Rachel and then grins at her, his face red. "Told you I was your bodyguard!"

Rachel lets out a laugh and smiles. "Kurt, I think I might just have to put you on my payroll."

His blush deepens and he shakes his head. "Nah…just give me an insanely generous tip for this facial and we'll call it even."

…

It's when Rachel's facial is over and Santana is long gone that Rachel's seventh lesson comes into play. Instead of being upset or frustrated about the encounter, Rachel finds herself smiling all the way back to the farm. Santana may think that Noah isn't serious but her ranting and raving in the middle of the salon proves a very solid, final lesson to Rachel about Noah. He _loves_her. He has invited her to move in with him. That's _huge. _And all it takes is one conversation with a woman that Noah used to spend time with to make everything crystal clear.

When Rachel parks beside the house, she sees Puck on the front porch. He's reclining in the rocker and has his guitar on his lap. He shoots a lopsided grin at Rachel as she climbs from the car and walks toward him.

"So how was the spa?" he asks, dropping his guitar so he can sweep her into his arms.

"It was nice. Kurt and Mercedes have a very nice business going there. It's exceptionally high-end and I hope they can maintain it in Celina but I'll definitely be a customer. Kurt gives an amazing facial!"

Puck smiles but his eyes drop to the buttons of her shirt and Rachel rolls her eyes. He's insatiable. When he slides a hand up and flicks a button open, Rachel clears her throat. Puck lifts his eyes and stares at her, a silent question on his face.

"So I met a friend of yours today," she says.

Puck shakes his head, sliding another button through the hole. Rachel can tell he's more focused on what he's _trying _to do instead of on what she's saying. "You've already met all my friends."

Rachel laughs. "But this was my first meeting with Santana."

His fingers still on the buttons of her half-open blouse and his head jerks up. "Fuck," he mutters.

Rachel giggles and grips his bicep with her fingers. "She's not a very pleasant person, is she?"

Puck sighs and groans. "Did she try to pull your hair? She _always _goes for the fucking hair. She push you to the ground? Egg your car? Do I need to call the sheriff and have her arrested? That bitch is _crazy._"

Shaking her head, Rachel pulls away from Puck and grabs his hand, dragging him through the screen door and into the living room. She maneuvers him over to the couch and pushes him downward until he lands in the cushions. Rachel plops down next to him and throws a leg over his thigh as she relaxes against throw pillows propped up along the arm. Puck, she can tell, is on pins and needles as he wonders if there was an ex-lover versus current-girlfriend smackdown.

"Don't worry, Noah. She started to yell and did actually lunge for my hair but Kurt, who you know happens to _adore_ me, kicked her out of the salon!"

Puck lets out a laugh. "So Kurt saved your ass, huh?"

Rachel groans. "I can handle myself quiet well, thank you very much. But she said some interesting things and it made me think."

Puck's face turns white as the small grin slides away and Rachel can see the cogs turning inside his head. She reaches over and grabs his hand and squeezes it just as he asks, "So lay it on me. What'd she have to say?"

"What she said isn't important…but it made me realize that if I matter enough to you that you've offered me the opportunity to move in with you, that means that I mean more to you than she ever did."

Puck lets out a small breath and tugs Rachel against him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Baby, you _know_ that," he says. "I know I'm shit at telling you how I feel but you know I fucking love being with you… You know that…uh…that you—"

Rachel cuts him off as he starts to stumble on his words. "Noah, I _know. _And I love you just as much as you love me. And so _yes, _I'm going to call a realtor in Nashville and put my apartment on the market. I'm going to have my manager arrange to have my belongings packed and we'll have everything delivered here." Rachel bites her lip and looks at him. "If the offer still stands, that is?"

Puck just rolls his eyes as his hands travel back up to the buttons on her shirt. As he flicks another one open, he bends down to flick his tongue out against the curve of her jaw. She shivers against him and he says, just as his lips brush over the shell of her ear, "Of course it still stands."

Rachel sighs into him as his large hand slides against the flesh of her abdomen and closes her eyes. "Good, then it's settled."

And just like that, it is.

* * *

The next morning, Rachel keeps an eye on the clock. She's waiting for 9:30 to roll around and the closer it gets to that time, the antsier she gets. She's sitting on the couch, her laptop balanced on a pillow on her lap, when she hears the rumbling of an approaching truck. Glancing up at the clock, she sees that it's 9:27. A smile breaks out across her face and she pushes her computer to the side and stands up to stretch. When she steps out onto the porch, a large flat-bed truck is bouncing down the driveway. On the bed is the latest object of Puck's affection (other than her, of course.)

The truck pulls past the house and turns around, facing toward the road, before it stops completely. Rachel sees Puck coming out of the barn and his mouth is hanging open as he stares at the large, antique, cherry red tractor decked out with a big red bow sitting on the bed of the truck.

Rachel hops off the porch and trots barefoot across the cool, damp grass to meet him.

"Baby?" he questions, ticking up an eyebrow as his gaze darts from Rachel to the tractor and back again.

She bites her lip and grins. "Are you surprised?"

Puck's eyes widen, realization dawning. "You bought this for me?"

Nodding, Rachel asks, "You wanted it, right?"

Just then, the driver hops out of the truck and tosses the keys to the tractor to Puck. Puck catches them and hesitates for a moment, his eyes settling back on the tractor. A huge grin crosses his face and suddenly, he's bounding up onto the flatbed to help the driver remove the chains. While he works, he keeps glancing at Rachel, his eyes almost disbelieving, before he focuses on his brand new toy.

Soon, he's carefully backing it off the truck and the driver is pulling away with a wave out the window. Puck sits on top of the antique but gleaming machine and revs the engine slightly. When the engine purrs, Rachel watches him close his eyes and grin in appreciation.

"Wanna go for a ride, babe?" he asks.

Rachel laughs and carefully walks across the stony lot in her bare feet until Puck offers her a hand and pulls her up. She sits down in his lap and he turns her face toward him so that he can look up at her.

"You didn't have to do this," he tells her, his voice low.

"But I wanted to," she answers honestly. "You've done a lot for me, Noah. I can't even explain it to you but you have…"

Puck grins because he knows what she means. She's done so much for him since she came into his life six months ago thanks to the rain and mud and a crappy foreign car that can't handle country roads. And now he loves her and she loves him, too, and she's about to move in with him and the whole thing is really pretty fucking amazing.

They lock eyes and she smiles before he leans in, slanting his mouth over hers. The kiss is awkward with way she's sitting but she doesn't care because she's so happy. When they part minutes later, both breathing heavily because rarely do their kisses _not _lead to something more physical, Puck scoots her until she's sitting on one of his knees. Then he throws the tractor into gear and they speed off down the driveway toward the pasture. Rachel laughs as the chilly October wind blows through her tresses.

Puck glances away from the front of the machine long enough to look up at his famous, citified turned _farmgirl _of a girlfriend. He slides his hand across her waist and squeezes the firm flesh he finds there, dropping a lingering kiss against her shoulder before pulling away and revving the engine again. This machine handles like a dream and it's better than he imagined. He can't wait later when he can call Finn and rub it in his face. But right then, with the wind in their face and Rachel on his lap, he's so happy that he swears he could almost propose.

_Almost_.

...

_**THE END**_

* * *

**Author's note:** So that's it. We're leaving them here!


End file.
